As Yet Unwritten
by Persepolis130
Summary: What does the future hold for a Sirius sorted into Slytherin and Snape, who's never met Lily, recast as his best friend? Follow their adventures in life, love and eternal Potter hating from 4th year to Voldemort's attack. remus/sirius snape/lily
1. HEXES AND LOVE NOTES

**Title:** As Yet Unwritten  
**Author:** persepolis130  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. JKR's  
**Pairing/Characters:** Remus/Sirius, Snape/Lily, others  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** What does the future hold for a Sirius sorted into Slytherin and Snape recast as his best friend? Follow their adventures in life, love and ferocious Potter hating from 4th year to Voldemort's attack.  
**Notes:** The inspiration for this came from the fic _Shoebox Project_ by ladyjaida and dorkorific, one of my all-time favourite fics, and there are sure to be parallels and a joke or two relating to it. Thanks for reading, and any comments/constructive criticism are welcomed with open arms!

CHAPTER 1: HEXES AND LOVE NOTES

It was the bouncing that woke Severus up. The persistent, unavoidable bouncing.

"Severus…" the bouncing said, somewhere near his right shoulder. "Severus!"

He kept his eyes firmly shut, pretending not to notice it in the hopes it would go away.

"Seeeeveruuuuuus!!"

It never did. "What," he murmured drowsily, rolling face-down into his pillow so he didn't have to open his eyes.

"Seeeveruuus, wake uuuup! It's time for breakfast!" the bouncing said, now on either side of his head.

"I'm not hungry," he told it, which came out, muffled by his pillow, as something like, "Mmm mnph mm phm."

"Yes you are," the bouncing insisted, now so close to his ears that it made his head jiggle back and forth. "You're skinny as a rail. Don't your parents feed you over summer holiday?"

"Mmph mm mmm," he told it, bringing up a hand to bat it away. Why had his life turned out this way? It didn't seem fair. Severus hated bouncing. But then, when had life ever been fair to someone like him?

"Come on, Severus! Pancakes! Sausages! Orange juice! Little ickle eggies," it chortled, suddenly sounding like an overly-doting aunt, "for little ickle Sevie!"

Having accepted once again that his life was naught but misery and blackness and woe, Severus rolled over to acknowledge his very bouncy fate. Half a second later, he had a lap full of hyper, grinning boy.

"Morning!" it beamed down at him.

Severus sent it a glare he hoped looked sufficiently stern but had a feeling only looked sleepy and pouty at best. "Good morning, Sirius."

"Good?" Sirius asked, grinning even wider. "Brilliant! I'm so glad to be back here, I could spit! My house is the awfulest, have I told you about the house-elf heads?"

"You might've mentioned them, oh, three hundred times or so," Severus sighed. And he wasn't exaggerating. "Now get off me before I hex your ears off."

Sirius looked unconcerned but climbed off him anyway, tucking a strand of longish black hair behind his ear. "You really should be nicer to me, you know, I've been through a lot over the past two months. I mean, you just go and sit and read your boring books in your boring little house, and you don't have to worry about elf heads and vampires and cloaks that eat your arms, and…" the boy plastered an overly-distraught expression across his well-shaped features, "well, my Mum's already talking about marriage, can you believe it? Marriage! I'm fourteen years old! 'We need to find you a suitable pureblood match,' she says. Oh, and you should hear who she considers 'suitable matches,' you'll never believe…"

As Sirius continued with his story, Severus half listened, making uninterested grunts at what seemed appropriate times whilst he changed into his school robes.

It wasn't as if he disliked Sirius. In fact, if Severus had anyone he could call a friend, it would be him. Without Sirius, he had the feeling he'd have ended up rather consistently miserable at Hogwarts, since the Black boy was one of the only people to ever pay him any attention at all. Of course there were times, like now, when he could've done with a bit LESS attention, but on the whole, it was alright. Better than home, in any case.

Then again, he mused as Sirius waved his flapping tie above his head to illustrate a particularly poignant and thoroughly irrelevant point, it would be pretty hard for school to be more miserable than home. "Put that thing on," Severus interrupted him as he slid his own tie around his neck, "if you don't, you'll probably forget where to sit in the Great Hall and end up with the Hufflepuffs."

Sirius squawked in indignation but did as he was told, tying the green striped fabric in a messy knot vaguely about the region of his neck.

His own tie tied and tucked neatly into his robes, Severus hoisted his book bag, packed since last night, onto his shoulder and approached Sirius to fix his tie. "You'd think the heir to the Great and Most Ancient House of Black could manage to clothe himself properly," he groused.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's the NOBLE and Most Ancient House of Black," he corrected, "and we purebloods are not obligated to-- ouch, don't yank!-- to comport ourselves in… well," he waved his right hand in a dismissive movement, "you know. We're above the rules."

His housemate's tie fixed, Severus turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Above the rules, indeed. Idiot. Always going on ridiculously about such nonsense. About being better than everyone else, being richer and cleverer and more--

"Oi! Severus!" he heard Sirius calling from behind him as he mounted the stairs to the common room two at a time. "Wait up!"

"Wouldn't want to miss out on the eggs," he grumbled as Sirius caught up, glaring coldly at a first-year who was blocking his path. The girl hurriedly moved out of the way, looking sufficiently terrified of the older boys.

Sirius laughed at him and started in about bacon, and that helped a little. Before long, the two boys could smell its aroma drifting into the corridors out of the Great Hall, and they pushed open the doors to reveal the Hall, its benches already filled with students and tables piled high with breakfast.

"Hey, there's my kid brother!"

Severus looked up to the boy in question, seeming very small and intimidated in his green-lined robes next to his fellow first-years. The boy went rigid when Sirius grabbed him into a bear hug from behind, lifting him clean off his bench. "How's sweet Baby Black this morning? Wetting his nappies in fear of his very first day of class? How adorable you are, Reg!"

Trapped in the giant brotherly bear hug, Regulus appeared caught between feeling humiliated at his brother's actions and terrified he might actually wet himself at the thought of classes. The best he could manage was to hiss "Sirius! Stop it!" and tug at the older boy's arms ineffectually.

"Black!" shouted an older boy with a prefect badge sitting further down the table. "Stop making a scene and eat your bloody breakfast!"

Sirius showed him his middle finger and gave his brother a very loud kiss on the cheek, ruffling his already messy brown hair. "Good luck, Baby Black," Sirius told him as he stood up, "and make sure you don't upset the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. She's been known to hex students' tongues out for giving wrong answers!"

Severus rolled his eyes as Sirius trotted off, calling to him that there were two seats open and he should hurry before all the eggs were gone. Severus set a hand on Regulus's small, thin back. "Don't worry Regulus, you'll do fine," he told him in a reassuring tone. "Sirius doesn't know anything about the Defence teacher. We get a new one every year. Just do your best," and at this, he bent down to whisper with a smirk into the boy's ear, "Baby Black."

Regulus's face went beet red, and he turned back to the cereal he was eating without so much as a peep. The other miniscule Slytherins began whispering frantically as soon as Severus's back was turned. "Who are those guys?" "Is that one your brother?" "How old are they?" "He's SCARY!" "Do they play Quidditch?" "What's Quidditch?"

Severus ignored them and slid into the empty spot beside Sirius. "Saved you some eggs," the other boy told him.

"I'll try to contain my glee," he drawled with a roll of his eyes, reaching for the proffered plate of what appeared to be at least a half-dozen eggs sunny side up. He hadn't had eggs in months. In fact, he hadn't had breakfast in months. Suddenly realizing how hungry he was, Severus's stomach started to grumble.

Of course, things couldn't be that easy. As soon as his fingers made contact with the plate, it was jerked out of reach, a wand pressed suddenly to his neck. "Say please, Mr Snape," Sirius commanded, eyes glittering with mirthful evil. "Mustn't forget our manners, after all!"

Severus swore and reached for his wand, a half dozen hexes ready on his tongue. How could he have forgotten the ritual? It'd been this way ever since first year when an older boy had been pushing him around and Severus had jinxed him whilst Sirius watched.

It was a good jinx, nicely executed, and had resulted in the older boy's skin secreting a hideous yellowish, slug-like mucus. Very nice effect, considering Severus had never actually tried the jinx before. As the other boy oozed his way down the hall to Madame Pomfrey's, Severus had been only too relieved that he'd got out of harm's way, and paid the event no more heed.

Sirius, on the other hand, had had a rather different opinion. As someone placed almost immediately on Severus's Incredibly Loud and Annoying List and treated as such, Sirius had earlier regarded his scowling, bookish housemate as though he were something nasty he'd found stuck in the treads of his shoe. He now stood before Severus absolutely enraptured.

"Do it again!" he'd shouted triumphantly, as though he'd somehow had something to do with it. Severus had told him no, absolutely not, it wasn't a game, which had only made the other boy more adamant. "But that was so COOL, I want you to do it AGAIN!" eleven-year-old Sirius had insisted, following him down the hall to Charms and yanking on his arm. "Hex her, hex HER!" he yelled, pointing at a Ravenclaw walking nervously past. "Make her face green! Make her grow a tail! Turn her into a newt!"

After nearly five minutes of increasingly ear-splitting persistence that threatened his very sanity, Severus finally gave in. He made sure no one was looking too closely, turned his wand on Sirius, muttered an incantation under his breath, and said very calmly, "Eat slugs."

Charms class that afternoon was very quiet, as was dinner. In fact, Severus's entire evening was Sirius-free and calm, and he rather wondered why he hadn't tried that sort of thing some time earlier. The boy was such a pest, really. Impossible to accomplish anything around him at all.

It was a shame Severus had made an enemy in his own room though, and he began to regret it. He'd have to be extra careful to protect himself from now on. That in mind, he then spent over an hour attempting to bewitch his bed curtains to scream when touched to alert him if Sirius tried to sneak up and murder him in his sleep, but to no avail.

It was well past dark and nearly everyone was in bed when Sirius returned from the infirmary, but Severus was only feigning sleep. He'd be ready for Sirius's attack when it came.

Except that it never did.

"Merlin's BALLS that was AMAZING!" Sirius shouted ecstatically, waking half the boys' dorm. "I puked for HOURS!" He went on to beg for the incantation, proclaiming Severus his new best friend and a Huge Great Genius, all at the top of his lungs.

When the sixth-year prefect had tired of cussing and threatening Sirius for the night, the boy had crawled into Severus's bed, his face still slightly green from the charm, whispering vows of everlasting friendship if only Severus would teach him such brilliant things.

His face so earnest and eyes wide in wonder, at that moment, Sirius had been like a stray puppy just begging to be taken in. Despite the fact that Severus knew better than to feed strays, he'd never had anyone want to be his friend before, let alone declare him a Huge Great Genius. In the face of such flattery, he'd caved. He'd promised to teach Sirius hexes and jinxes and curses, anything he wanted… provided that Sirius could force Severus to perform them on him.

One moment of weakness, and look where it had got him. With a wand to his jugular and his delicious eggs half a foot out of reach. He'd been reduced to battling for his breakfast. And Slytherin was bound to lose points for this. Bloody Buggering Hell.

Drawing his wand, Severus was about to cast a jelly-fingers jinx when the offending wand was lowered, and the plate was suddenly thrust at his chest with a muttered string of expletives. Grasping it thankfully, Severus pocketed his wand, barely sparing a glance up at Sirius, who was glaring across the hall. Severus dutifully ignored him, intent upon shovelling as much breakfast into his mouth as he could in case Sirius remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

He shouldn't have worried though. If there was one thing that could distract Sirius Black from practically anything, even particularly genius hexes, it was--

"Those bloody Gryffindors! The nerve of coming into the Great Hall while I'M EATING! Just look at them. So pathetic! I can't eat with those THINGS in the room!" Sirius announced loudly, pointing. A few sniggers and nods of agreement passed among the Slytherins.

Severus did have to admit they had a rather pathetic air about them, the Gryffindor boys. First of all, there were only three in their year, as opposed to their five Slytherin, and the measly three they had were hardly awe-inspiring. First, there was Remus Lupin, who looked continually on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, with his ugly torn jumpers and uptight attitude. Next was Peter Pettigrew, a mousy-looking, chubby boy with watery eyes and a vapid, blank expression who'd once tried to cheat off one of Severus's History of Magic tests. Last, and in everyone's opinion least, was James Potter. He was a messy-haired, loud-mouthed git who had decided his status on Gryffindor's Quidditch team meant he could do or say whatever the hell he wanted whenever he wanted. Even worse, with the special treatment he got, it seemed he was right.

It was really Potter who annoyed the piss out of Sirius, as the Black boy demanded everyone's full attention at all times and resented anyone who took it away from him. The continual presence of the other two boys at James's side, nonentities that they were, was incidental at best.

"All right, that's it! That is IT!" declared Sirius suddenly, slamming his fists down angrily on the table and nearly upsetting Severus's plate. He pulled it closer for protection, a bit of egg dripping down his chin.

"What is WHAT?" he heard a female voice say.

"I'll tell you what's WHAT!" Sirius told her. "Those Gryffindors are done for. Finished!"

"Finished?" Severus heard the same girl say in an incredulous tone as he stole a gulp of Sirius's orange juice.

"You heard me! Because I have a plan that's going to make James Potter wish he was never born!"

"Black!" A harsh voice cut through the breakfast chatter. "Sit down and shut up before I shut you up permanently!"

But Sirius wasn't fazed. His mind now set on his new and lofty goal, he dragged Severus to his feet by the back of his robes, threatened to lick his face clean if he didn't wipe the egg off, and hauled him out the door.

XXXXX

"So I have a confession to make," Sirius declared when they'd taken their seats in Double Potions twenty minutes later.

"I'm sure I don't want to know," Severus told him, taking his book out of his bag. "Wait," he paused, "this doesn't have anything to do with Scriggly, does it?"

Sirius scowled. "I told you about a billion times I don't know anything about that!"

Severus rolled his eyes. At the end of last year, Sirius's owl Scriggly (Merlin only knew how it had got that ridiculous name) had eaten Severus's toad and regurgitated it at the foot of his bed. Sirius claimed he had no idea how it had happened, but Severus was almost entirely convinced he was lying. Not that he missed the toad. Worthless creature. It was the principle of the thing.

"It's about my plan," Sirius clarified. When Severus said nothing, he said, "You see… I don't actually have one… yet…"

"I'm shocked."

Sirius had the gall to look crestfallen.

Severus sighed. "Well, throw something in Pettigrew's cauldron again, I'm sure that'll give you some inspiration."

"Yeah… yeah, you're probably right," Sirius conceded after a moment. "It's just that I really WANT to have a plan! You know, something big, not just random hexes like last year. I mean, what do you think of--"

"Ah, welcome back, everyone! So pleased to see you all again! Stebbins, glad to see you've fully recovered from those boils! Black, I haven't heard from your father in ages, how is he?" There were still a few minutes until class began, but the students collectively straightened in their seats as Professor Slughorn, a fat man with a blond moustache that made him look like a sun-bleached walrus, entered from his office.

Sirius flinched but managed a rather natural-looking smile. "He's quite fine sir, thank you for asking!"

"And how's my favourite fourth-year, Miss Evans? Ready for a brand new year?" he asked one of the Gryffindor girls who had just entered, puffing up his chest a bit.

"Yes, sir," she told him breezily, sliding into a seat in front of Severus and smoothing her deep red hair behind her ears. "Ready, sir!" Evans was an excellent student and rather a suck-up, but Slughorn saw no problem with brownnosers, as his blatant favouritism showed.

Severus heard Sirius hiss as the Gryffindor boys entered the room, Potter alone receiving a greeting from the professor. The prat rattled on to the eagerly listening Potions Master for a good minute and a half about his summer exploits with various Ministry officials, likely making most of it up on the spot.

When he tired of making gagging motions at Potter from behind his book, Sirius crumpled a piece of parchment and threw it at the Gryffindor boy's messy-haired head. It missed and hit that of the red-haired girl beside him instead, and she whipped around to find the culprit. As Sirius was now flipping innocently through his textbook, her accusing glare fell upon Severus, who glared back with equal venom.

As soon as she'd turned back around, Severus hit Sirius and called him an aim-impaired dunderhead. When Slughorn had quieted his raucous laughter, class began.

Potions had never been one of Severus's favourite classes. He found it dull and repetitive, simple memorization and replication, rather like History of Magic with shrivelfigs. Although Sirius could likely brew anything in their textbook, he tended to get bored with their potion about half-way through, and Severus would have to finish it on his own while the other boy fiddled with his potions-making kit and daydreamed up ways of bringing about the downfall of Gryffindor.

Today's class was no different, with Evans and Potter's potion finished just slightly quicker and more perfectly than Severus and Sirius's, though he was sure they'd receive full marks. An unidentifiable ingredient seemed to have blown up Pettigrew and Lupin's, though. The two ended up covered in goop which, under normal circumstances, should have made hair sprout from anywhere it touched, but since they'd mixed the potion so badly in the first place, all it did was make them reek of dead fish. If they hadn't been Gryffindors, Severus might almost have felt sorry for them.

Almost.

That afternoon in their dorm room, Sirius laughed uproariously about it. "It was like the ocean threw up on them! God, that was so VILE!" he declared, bouncing exuberantly on the end of Severus's bed.

Severus was just finishing his potions homework and was eager to look over his Defence Against the Dark Arts book again. Of course he'd already read the entire thing twice since he'd got his book list, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. "So have you made any progress on your plan?" he asked, not really interested in the answer but sick of hearing about how disgusting Sirius's prank had been.

"Yeah, I think maybe I have," he answered, somewhat pensively. In contrast with Severus, Sirius would screw around all night, do his homework ten minutes before class began, and forego opening his Defence text altogether. If he weren't disgustingly gifted, he'd have failed out first year.

"And?" Severus prompted, going back to the top of his essay to check for grammatical errors.

"Well, I sort of need your opinion on something first. I was wondering if you'd noticed in potions today…"

Severus hated the I before E except after C rule because it didn't always work. There were those sneaky words that defied all logic and refused to follow the rule, positioning their I's and E's in backwards order without any regard for common courtesy. Words like "weigh" were easy to remember, but when it came to something like "surfeit," he always second-guessed himself. Maybe the spelling had something to do with their language of origin, and he could come up with a separate rule in his head to differentiate between--

"Are you listening to me, Snape?"

Severus blinked and then scowled. "I'm having a spelling emergency here, Black."

"Right," Sirius told him unconcernedly, "so what do you think of Lily?"

"Lily who?" he asked. Now was it "inveigle" or "inviegle"…?

"What do you mean, 'Lily who?' LILY, Lily!"

"Shut up, I don't know any Lilys." Maybe he should just change it to "entice" instead…

"Lily EVANS!" Sirius fumed. "Don't you know anything at all?!"

"Oh, get over yourself, Sirius. How would I know a Gryffindor's first name? And why would I care?" Definitely "entice," he decided, and changed it forthwith.

"You'll care when she's my girlfriend!"

And suddenly "entice" was the last thing he wanted to write in conjunction with the use of sneezewort infusions. "What did you just say?"

"It's the perfect plan!" Sirius exclaimed with accompanying wild gesticulations. "Potter was staring at her so much during class he nearly cut his fingers off! And you can hardly blame him, she's rather a catch, don't you think? Can you imagine how mad he'll be when she's mine?"

Severus stared, not quite sure he was hearing right.

"Just think of it. She's the cleverest girl in our class and everyone says she's the prettiest, and she'll be mine and not Potter's, and the whole school will be jealous of me, and I'll shove it right in those Gryffindors' faces that I'm better than them! Oh, and she's Muggle-born, and Mum and Dad will hate her, so bonus on that one. Isn't it brilliant?!"

"Oh, I get it," Severus said after a lengthy pause, "You've finally gone round the twist."

For a few disturbing seconds, it looked as if Sirius was going to lose his temper. He suddenly became eerily still, and his face contorted into something dangerously close to rage. Severus's hand inched toward his wand.

The Incarcerous spell he had planned to cast suddenly became a moot point as Sirius jumped down from his bed and stormed to the door. "I'm not going to speak to you when you're like this," Sirius shouted over his left shoulder, "so you'd better adjust your attitude if you think I'm going to have her invite a friend so we can go on double-dates!"

Severus sighed heavily and looked back down at his essay. The word "entice" seemed to pop viciously out at him, its six simple letters turned malevolent in the still-resounding echo of Sirius's last statement.

Faced with such an insurmountable obstacle, he ripped the paper in half and started anew.

XXXXX

If you asked Severus Snape why Defence Against the Dark Arts was his favourite class, he'd say he found it interesting. The subject's combination of theory and practice in conjunction with its sordid history and ambiguous nature piqued his interest. It was ever-changing, multi-faceted, and anything but dull.

But this was only partially true.

The real reason that Severus Snape loved Defence Against the Dark Arts, childish though he knew it was, was because it was heroic. If you could defeat the Dark Arts, you could help people, save them, and that was what heroes did. They saved people. And it wasn't because they were brave or clever or hard-working, though all of those things helped. It was because they had power.

Severus Snape wanted power. He supposed that was why he'd been placed in Slytherin. He'd heard whispers of others from his house whose motivations differed from his. He knew there were people who wanted power so that they could control others, force them to do their bidding. These wizards had given themselves over to the Dark Arts in body and soul, and the Dark Arts had repaid them in kind.

But this wasn't why Severus wanted power. He wanted power because he knew so well what it was not to have it, and he refused to live that way ever again. He would gain power or die trying.

He'd never told anyone this before, and he didn't plan to. It wasn't as if he thought about it night and day, or really much at all. It certainly wasn't his ultimate goal in life. It was just something, a part of himself, that he knew from the depths of his soul to be true. Once he had power, he could save people, starting with himself.

By this point, Sirius was used to him forgetting meals. If he read straight through dinner, or wrote lengthy essays during lunch, or ran to the library without breakfast, Sirius snuck him something so he wouldn't go hungry. He'd hand over the apple or chicken sandwich while making an impertinent joke or two about Severus's brain exploding from Dark Arts overload, or his skin becoming as pasty as his parchment.

When Sirius stalked into their dorm that night without so much as a cracker, Severus was mildly perturbed. He was rather hungry, and if he'd known he wasn't getting anything, he'd have gone down to dinner. It wasn't like Sirius was REQUIRED to bring him something, it's just that he always did, and now he'd thrown Severus off. He was about to say something when Sirius exploded.

"Rubbish, that's what it is!" he shouted at no one and nothing in particular. "Absolute and total bullshit RUBBISH!"

Severus started and nearly dropped his book when Sirius kicked the foot of his bed. "And I KNOW I forgot to nick you a snack, and I'm SORRY, but I can't-- it's just--" he grasped handfuls of his hair and tugged, his face screwed up in fury. "GAH!"

"Does this have something to do with your plan?" Severus asked, hoping this was the right thing to say and wouldn't prolong the outburst or turn it on himself.

"Oh, that Evans!" Sirius fumed. "She turned me down flat! In front of everyone!"

Oh bugger.

"And she said-- get this--" he continued, "that if it were between dating me and the giant squid, she'd-- and she actually SAID this!-- she'd take the GIANT SQUID!"

Double bugger.

"How could she say something like that to me-- to ME?! Am I not GOOD ENOUGH for her? Not rich enough, not clever enough, not good looking enough? I'M BLOODY GORGEOUS!"

Somehow, Severus didn't think it had anything to do with any of those things, but he kept his mouth shut. Not tickling dragons and letting sleeping dogs lie, and all that.

Sirius raged about the dorm for another half hour, kicking, hitting, and throwing things, his fury so great that Severus didn't even dare reopen his book. Sirius's temper was legendary, only eclipsed by his enormous ego. It wouldn't do to go against either, so Severus lay on his bed as still as possible. He tried his best to come up with a strategy, since there was no telling how long this would go on if he didn't put a stop to it.

"You could always come up with a different plan," he told Sirius when the other boy had finally exhausted his immediate topics of aggravation and was pausing for breath before he started in again. "That, or try again. Maybe she'll change her mind, right?"

Severus didn't believe for an instant that Evans would change her mind, but Sirius seemed intrigued. He looked thoughtfully about the room for a few moments, eyes finally settling on Severus's motionless form. Severus resisted the urge to squirm as Sirius looked him up and down, as though searching for something Severus couldn't identify. He wished Sirius would stop. It was unnerving.

Suddenly, a grin broke out across Sirius's face.

"Flowers," he announced, and darted from the room.

Severus let out a sigh of relief and went back to his studies.

XXXXX

And flowers it was.

Flowers, and chocolates, and love poems, and everything Severus could imagine a girl ever wanting.

And Lily Evans wanted none of it.

Especially after James Potter caught on.

It had been going on for several weeks when Potter drew his wand on Sirius in the hall, and the insults and hexes started flying. "Keep to your own kind, you disgusting, slimy Slytherin! No Gryffindor in their right mind would come within ten feet of you, especially Evans!"

"Oh, you think so, Potter? If you wanted her so bad, you should've claimed her first!"

"She's a person, Black, not an object you can claim! She doesn't belong to anyone! And besides, you can't have her, she's MINE!"

Severus stood with his hand in his wand pocket just in case things got out of hand. Sirius liked to handle these things on his own though, so Severus let him. Not as though he wanted to join in on such foolishness anyway. He noticed Lupin and Pettigrew watching from the sidelines, one looking anaemic and the other terrified, but Severus made sure to keep them in sight anyway as he monitored Sirius.

The small group soon gathered a rather substantial crowd, which gasped and ahhed when Sirius was hit with a leg-locker curse just seconds before his silencio hit Potter. Sirius tried to remove the curse as Potter waved his wand about uselessly, shouting soundless incantations to no effect.

Severus felt quite impressed with both himself and his housemate, as he'd been the one who taught Sirius the silencing charm; it wasn't on the syllabus until fifth year. He felt highly superior to Potter, already having begun to teach himself how to cast silent spells. There was no way the Gryffindor boy could beat him, he decided. In fact, if both Potter and Black worked together, they'd probably be hard-pressed.

It was with that malicious thought rather happily traipsing about in his brain that Professor McGonagall showed up. She gave both duellers detention for a week and took ten points from each house, declaring them to have the manners of ill-trained Hippogriffs.

"That was perfect!" Sirius declared at the beginning of their next class, which happened to be Transfiguration.

"Well, I'll admit, the silencing charm was fairly--"

"No, not the charm! Potter!" Sirius beamed. "Did you see that look of utter, absolute loathing on his face!?"

Severus threw him a dirty look.

"That's the one!" Sirius laughed. "And soon sweet Lily will be mine, she practically is already, and James Potter will be forced to commit ritual suicide out of shame! And those other two Gryffin-losers will be so lost without their little leader, they'll go on holiday and never come back!"

Severus fussed with the binding of his copy of _Intermediate Transfiguration_, which was greyed and fraying. "What if she chooses him instead?"

Sirius looked baffled. "How could that even be possible? After all the things I've done for her, all the flowers and the candy, and the little singing cupid--"

"But she hates those things," Severus reminded him. Damn book was falling apart. He'd have to look up a spell on… book glue or something. Cover refurbishing. Or maybe a potion. Could you mend books with potions?

"She only thinks she hates them," Sirius countered.

"No," Severus told him, deciding he'd check in the library after class, "she definitely hates them."

And she did. She hated them even more when Potter decided to follow Sirius's lead and started sending her gifts. Evans stalked around Hogwarts looking nothing short of murderous, and Severus didn't blame her in the least.

Even when she hexed Sirius's hair to attack his ears and poured pumpkin juice into his bag during lunch, ruining several perfectly good books, Severus bore the ensuing dorm room tirade with much practiced disdain. After all, if Gryffindor Evans could put up with two completely daft men attempting to ruin her life at every possible opportunity, Severus could surely manage just one. Besides, it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter.

What bothered him more than the issue of Evans was that of Potter. He and Sirius had taken to attacking each other in the halls on a nearly daily basis, and though Sirius knew more hexes, Potter was better at dodging them, so they ended up being fairly evenly-matched. Not only did Sirius see it as a personal shortcoming that he couldn't decisively defeat the Gryffindor before either a teacher or Filch came to break things up, but he now hounded Severus even worse than before to teach him new things.

After months of constant pestering, threatening, and begging, Sirius was jumping on Severus's bed at quarter to five one morning when their dorm mate Bertram Aubrey screamed at him to "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, SHUT UP!" Severus decided this was his cue to end the madness, so he cast a Full Body Bind on Sirius and left him lying there on the floor.

Sitting in Potions before class begun was a remarkably quiet affair that morning, which was very conducive to his current research on book rebinding charms. Severus didn't even care that with Sirius absent, he'd be without a partner. In fact, it reminded him of the other time he'd charmed Sirius into the infirmary, which brought back such nice memories.

If only this time could had proven as peaceful as the previous one.

"Is Black ill?" Professor Slughorn asked, looking concerned as he began class.

"He wasn't feeling well this morning," Aubrey responded with a smirk. "Flat on his back, if you catch my meaning."

Slughorn shook his head and tut-tutted, reminiscing about the time he brewed a potion for the former head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad when he was ill and how it lead to an invitation to an especially delicious banquet. Severus looked up from his book for long enough to shoot his housemate a hateful glare. If he tried to take the credit for it himself, he would regret it. For the rest of his natural life. Aubrey seemed to realize this and ducked his head.

"And poor Lupin's in the infirmary again as well, frail for a Gryffindor, that one. Well, I suppose you'll just have to pair up with Snape then, Evans," Slughorn concluded.

Severus's head jerked up. Potter and Pettigrew were sitting in front of him at a table together, Evans beside them at her table, alone.

The Gryffindor girl spun around in her seat and examined him with a look of distinct distrust. "That's fine, Professor," she said, and turned back around. "I can work alone like I usually do when Remus is sick. I've already looked over this potion, and--"

"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" he declared, motioning for Severus to move to the empty seat beside her. "Besides, you can show Snape how it's done. Come along then, Mr Snape."

"I'll do all the work, don't worry," she told him when he set his things beside hers at their table.

Severus opened his text to the page on Deflating Draughts as Evans wrote something in hers, not bothering to even look at him. Scowling disgustedly at the egotism of Gryffindors, he went to get the ingredients. Evans blinked up at him as he laid them in front of her.

"Sorry, was I not allowed to touch them?" he asked, measuring out powdered spine of lionfish on his scale.

"Oh, I didn't mean…" he heard her say. But then she just sighed and started cutting their bubotuber. It was strange to see delicate, female hands where he'd always before seen Sirius's short-nailed, cracked-knuckled, calloused ones. It was also strange to have a potions partner who was more interested in making potions than making other people's potions explode.

The entire class seemed rather subdued today without Sirius, in fact. A few people talked quietly about ingredients, but no one shouted or did anything at all distracting. Beside Evans, even Potter and Pettigrew worked quietly and surprisingly competently on their potion, both looking unusually tired but focused.

It was over halfway through the period when Severus was forced to break the pleasant silence. "Why are you doing that?"

Evans looked up at him as she mixed the armadillo bile and chopped fluxweed, not into their bubbling cauldron, but into a small copper bowl beside it. "They'll blend better this way," she told him.

Severus eyed the bowl. It looked expensive and new, and he wondered for a moment if she was rich like Sirius. Well, not exactly like Sirius, since no one was quite as rich as him, but her family had to have been fairly well-off for Muggles. "The book doesn't say to do that," he informed her. "It says to add them one after the other, stirring twelve times in between. Didn't you read it?"

"Of course I read it," she told him, voice betraying no emotion as she mixed the bowl, "but this way's better."

"No offence," Severus said, his tone contradicting his words, "but don't you think the textbook would know better than you?"

Her mixture now a greenish paste, she scooped it into the cauldron. Their potion suddenly turned a violent shade of blue. "No offence," she countered, "but who's better at potions, you or me?"

He couldn't remember the last time one of Evans's potions wasn't perfectly concocted, so he conceded that she might have a point and only replied, "We'll see." If it didn't turn out, he'd speak with Professor Slughorn. Perhaps he'd be allowed to redo it.

Of course it turned out beautifully. So beautifully, in fact, that Professor Slughorn had the entire class gather around their finished product to inspect its outstandingly brilliant consistency and colour.

With class finished for the morning and Severus not terribly worse for the wear, he decided it was his unfortunate duty to remove the spell he'd put on Sirius and promptly ignore his ensuing rage by heading directly to lunch. Evans had other ideas.

"Snape! Wait up a minute!" she called to him, rushing out the classroom door in pursuit.

He kept walking but slowed his pace, not sure if he should admit to having heard her. Then again, was he really in that much of a hurry to unfreeze Sirius?

"Hey, I wanted to apologize, you know, for what I said at the beginning of class," she told him when she'd caught up. "I just thought you might be a little lost without Black there, so… but you're really not too bad."

Severus felt the anger rise in his chest and restrained himself with great difficulty from hexing her. How dare she. "For your information, Black is the one who would be lost without me. You think the sort of idiot who would send you dancing gnomes in pink rompers as a display of his unending love would be able to make a decent potion? Just like a Gryffindor to go around deciding things like that without any basis in actual reality. Brilliant deduction. Bravo."

Severus was quite impressed with himself when he saw Evans go pink with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I…" she looked confused, "I thought, I mean…"

"And just to let you know," Severus interrupted, blood pounding in his temples like a stampeding thestral, "this whole business of, of WOOING you Sirius has come up with actually has nothing to do with you at all. He doesn't even like you. He's just using you to get what he wants."

"And what does he want?" she asked, expression unreadable.

"To ruin Potter's life, of course!" he spat.

His acerbic remark met with a blank stare, Evans's eyes blinking back at him as though he'd spoken in an unrecognisable foreign tongue. Without warning, her face contorted in rage, and she jerked her book bag violently onto her shoulder. "If he wants to ruin James Potter's life so much, why doesn't he ask HIM out instead?" she spat and turned on her heel, stamping down the hall.

Severus felt his anger recede to acceptable levels and decided the girl might actually be on to something. Back in their room, a fully-recovered Sirius was about to murder him until Severus told him about being partnered with Evans in his absence.

"What did she say about me?" he demanded, anger instantly forgotten. "Was she terribly worried I was gone? Wait, of course she was. Did she swoon?"

"What?"

"Swoon! You know, feel faint and nearly collapse when she heard I was ill and beg to be taken outside for some air--"

"You're talking nonsense," Severus informed him.

Sirius threw a book at him. Severus was rather incensed at the abusive treatment of his literature and picked it up in annoyance. Luckily, it was just an old copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_, possibly the dullest book concerning Dark Arts ever written, so he let it slide. "She says she hates you," he told the other boy. "And she'll never go out with you because she knows you're just doing it to get to Potter."

Sirius's jaw dropped, and he slumped down onto Severus's bed, defeated. "Oh no. How'd she figure that out? Didn't I send enough flowers? This is terrible…"

"No idea," Severus lied. "But I think you need a different plan. A better one."

"Fantastic," Sirius said, smacking petulantly at a bedpost, his mouth screwed up into a dejected pout. "So do you have one, then?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

XXXXX

Over the next fourteen days, whilst Lily Evans did not receive so much as an offhand hallway hullo from Sirius Black, James Potter received exactly twenty-three highly sentimental gifts of obnoxiously devoted love, all from a highly mysterious secret admirer.

Severus was fairly sure he'd never seen his fellow Slytherin so pleased as when Potter received the Six-Pence Pie that Severus had helped him enchant. All four and twenty blackbirds (rather, pinkbirds, thanks to a colour-changing spell) had been charmed to fly about him, singing a loudly warbled version of Celestina Warbeck's "You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me." Every so often, one of the birds would swoop down to peck at Potter's nose. When he came to breakfast the next morning with a bandaged nose and the birds still chirping about his head, not having been able to yet find a counter spell, Sirius laughed so hard he almost choked on his pudding.

The other Slytherins caught on quickly, and they too began delivering anonymous and incredibly irritating gifts to various Gryffindors. When the Gryffindors replied in turn, it became all-out war, and it was impossible to even walk though the halls without being accosted by off-key singing corsages, pompously projected declarations of eternal love and flatulent devotion, and various love-struck farm animals.

Soon, Sirius Black was known throughout Hogwarts as The Reason Gift Giving is Now Entirely Forbidden Except on Birthdays and Holidays.

Luckily, by this time, Christmas was fast approaching, and everyone was swept away in loads of homework and plans for holiday, and they were far too busy to think of anything else. Deeply unhappy about having to return home, Sirius was distracted from further scheming as well, having begun his yearly diatribe on why he hated his family and everything they stood for.

"--and I'll have to spend all my time dressed up in fancy robes and uncomfortable shoes, and cousin Bella will get pissed and puke on something of mine-- always my stuff!-- and it'll smell for days, and Mother will lecture me on what a disgrace I am in front of everyone, and Regulus will be a snotty little--"

He could go on like this for hours at a stretch. As long as there was no bouncing involved though, Severus considered it all so much background noise for his reading.

Yesterday, he'd asked the Defence teacher about a spell they'd mentioned in passing in class, and she'd been kind (or possibly stupid) enough to give Severus a pass into the library's restricted section to research it. Madame Pince had eyed him suspiciously when he'd emerged with a heavy tome entitled _Magick Most Evile_, but she'd allowed him to check it out nonetheless. He was now laying propped up on his bed, the fabric of his duvet rough against his elbows as he flipped the pages.

"--Aunt Druella's Flaming Marmalade Duck, which everyone knows isn't duck at all and is actually made by house elves, but that's beside the point, since--"

Severus used the point of his wand to turn to page 156. He had to be careful of which ones he touched, because any page that was a multiple of thirteen stung his fingers something terrible. He'd have to work on his spell to flip pages. He'd started it earlier in the year, but it ended up flipping several pages at once, the incantation's wording not being precise enough. Or perhaps the double dative had been rather an overextension of Latin functionality in the instance of such a spell and, in fact, too precise. In any case, it bore looking into.

"--that her hair was on fire, and I never much liked her hair anyway, blonde is really arrogant don't you think, but I hardly see how it could've been MY fault…"

The night before hols began, Severus was nearly asleep, his beloved _Magick Most Evile_ stowed in his pillowcase beside his wand for safekeeping (and in case he awoke in the night with the distinct need to calm himself with it), when Sirius crawled into his bed. "What're you doing?" Severus mumbled at the other boy.

"Nothing," Sirius whispered, leaning against Severus's side as he pulled the covers up around himself.

"Then do it in your own bed!" Severus hissed, suddenly feeling quite unhappily awake.

"I don't want to go home," Sirius murmured, lips close to Severus's ear.

"I know, and I don't care," Severus told him, pushing ineffectually at the arms that were encircling his rib cage.

Sirius made a plaintive little noise that sounded like a dog's whimper and nuzzled his nose into Severus's neck. Severus silently cursed the fact that Sirius got clingy when he was depressed.

What was so bad about him going home anyway? Severus had heard all the stories (well, sort of), and his house didn't seem so terrible. In fact, his family seemed just as dysfunctional as he was, so it should suit him just fine. If it were possible to switch families, Severus knew he'd do it in an instant, even if it did mean gaining a "funny" uncle Ignatius.

"This is highly… improper," Severus managed, trying his best to keep his voice down. "It is improper and… and uncalled for, and if anyone catches you here, they're sure to think very… wrong things, and I'll have to Obliviate them, and I don't properly know how to Obliviate yet--"

"You smell," Sirius informed him in a soft voice, breath puffing against his skin.

"Black, would you please just--"

"I think it's your hair," Sirius continued, pushing a strand of it behind Severus's ear with a warm, rough finger. "It's really disgusting. Do I have to? I don't want to sleep alone. I think there's a boggart under my bed. You know I hate those things. All mean and boggarty."

"Sirius--"

"Or maybe it's a Blibbering Humdinger. You can't leave me alone with one of those, they've been know to eat grown men's heads in one bite, Severus! Can you imagine how painful that would be? And messy! You don't want to have to clean up after a Blibbering Humdinger ate my head, do you? It'd be just my headless body left and blood everywhere and if I came back as a ghost--"

"FINE!" Severus nearly shouted. He heard a sleepy snort from a neighbouring bed and lowered his voice. "Fine. Just shut up and go to sleep. And if your hands end up anywhere indecent, I'll jinx your fingers off just like Goodwin Kneen!"

"Who the bloody hell is Goodwin Kneen?"

"Never mind. Just sleep!" he ordered. God, what an idiot. Their dormitory was obviously boggart-free, and everyone knew there was no such thing as a Blibbering Humdinger. He could at least come up with more convincing lies. Worthless, pointless, god-awful stupid Sirius Black, his only purpose in life was to make other people miserable.

"Severus," Sirius said, cuddling his warm, soothing body up against him, "you're the best friend anyone's ever had."

"I hate you," Severus told him, just to be clear on that point, as he wrapped an arm loosely around him. "And my hair does not smell," he added. "I wash it all the time."

"Goodnight, Severus," Sirius told him.

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Sirius."

In the morning, Sirius announced very loudly in front of their dorm mates that Severus was an amazing kisser and quite an exceptional shag. Severus would've jinxed him to within an inch of his life had Sirius not very prudently stolen and hidden his wand, which Severus didn't find until an hour after he'd left.

Thus ended the first half of Severus Snape's fourth year at Hogwarts.

TBC


	2. JUMPERS AND HEDGEHOGS

CHAPTER 2: JUMPERS AND HEDGEHOGS

"Socks?" Sirius asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"Yes," Severus told him. "Socks."

"Besides what I got you, the most interesting thing you got for Christmas was SOCKS?"

"What's wrong with socks?" Severus asked, throwing him a dirty look.

"Well, you got gypped then. I got a new racing broom, a lunascope, a cursed music box I used on Regulus, a couple of wicked-looking masks that turn you into different people when you wear them, a subscription to Quidditch Quarterly…" Severus's interest trailed off as Sirius ticked off a lengthy list of Christmas acquisitions," …and six new sets of dress robes. Who needs that many dress robes? I swear Mother's crazy. I mean, more crazy than I though she was. If that's possible."

Severus rolled his eyes and hid behind his book. He'd been sent three pairs of socks, some parchment, a box of cheap chocolates that tasted like chalk, and the book he was now reading, entitled _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_. The book was from Sirius, of course. He'd picked it out because it was, "big, dusty, and boring-looking, so I figured you'd eat it up."

He was right.

"Hey, Severus," Sirius suddenly asked. "You remember my cousin Narcissa, right? The one who graduated last year?"

"Possibly," he responded, squinting down at a blurred passage. What male in his right mind could forget Narcissa Black?

"Well she's getting married, and guess who her fiancé is-- Lucius Malfoy!"

Severus only grunted. He would've wondered why Sirius seemed so pleased about it, but as reasoning through Sirius Black's thought processes was far too taxing an affair, he'd given it up long ago.

"You know him, right? Blond Prefect, graduated a few years ago…"

"Yes, the pointy one," Severus answered with a frown. He pictured the older boy's light grey eyes looking haughtily down a narrow nose, his lips pursed in an expression of barely-repressed disgust. "I remember him."

"So I always thought he was a total prat, you know? Smarmy little prick with a broomstick up his arse who'd do anything to make himself look good. Always had his nose in everyone else's business. But it turns out I was wrong," he shrugged.

Severus thought back to their experiences with Lucius Malfoy, who had indeed strode about the castle as though he'd a broomstick up his arse. Though he'd been Slytherin prefect, his only benefit to decent Hogwarts society seemed to have been his ability to spew brilliant invectives at the drop of a hat. During their two shared years at the school, he'd let drop a number of highly inventive and particularly vulgar swears that Severus had made a distinct and fruitful effort to incorporate into his own vocabulary. Despite the inspired cussing, Malfoy was a self-important busybody, and both boys had both fairly hated him.

"I'm on pins and needles, Black," Severus prompted. "Do tell."

Sirius beamed.

What followed was a long and rambling tale of spilled desserts, remarriages, a drunken Bella, Hogsmeade weekends, pureblood rights, Mudbloods, and Snidget hunting which ended in the perplexing phrase, "and he's going to have dancing girls!"

Severus's brain, as adept as it had become over the years to interpreting Sirius-speak, was at a loss. Noting his page number, he snapped his book closed and swung himself into a sitting position. "I don't suppose you could say that in something approximating normal English, could you?"

Sirius rolled his eyes as if Severus were the idiot here. "When I asked him if we could have dancing girls at his little pureblood politics meeting he invited me to next Hogsmeade weekend, he agreed without even blinking! 'If you want dancing girls, then that is what you shall have,' he told me. Isn't it brilliant?"

Severus's mouth hung open, and he coaxed it into speaking with difficulty. "He invited you to a political meeting, and you asked for dancing girls?"

"Yeah, and he said I could have them! Just like that, no problem! Now that's what being your own man, head of your family, is all about: being able to do whatever the hell you want without having to ask anyone's permission!" Sirius jumped up on the end of Severus's bed and twirled himself precariously around one of the bedposts. "We're going to talk politics, get pissed on obnoxiously expensive booze, and watch dancing girls! How perfect is that!?"

Watching the other boy spin with his strange grace, his bed shaking gently with his movements, Severus found himself asking stupidly, "…what kind of dancing girls?"

Sirius shrugged, leaning out from the bed at a forty five degree angle, only a strong arm away from dashing his brains out on the floor. "Ones that are good at dancing, I suppose, who cares?"

Yes, who cared indeed? Severus had a lot of studying to do, a nice new book to read, and no interest whatsoever in dancing girls. Even if they were really, really good dancers in very, very tiny outfits with long, silky hair and shimmering bangles hanging about their slender ankles. No, no interest at all.

"Anyway, if it's any good, I'll ask if you can come to the next one. You can use big words and impress people and explain all the politics stuff to me after. Want to try out my new broom?" he asked suddenly. "It's a Cleansweep, much better than those puttering old Moontrimmers they keep as school brooms. Come on then, let's go!" he said, jumping down. Sirius could undoubtedly switch gears faster than his new Cleansweep could turn across the pitch.

"I'm sorry, you've seen me on a broom before, have you not?" Severus asked crossly, crawling back to retrieve his book and flopping onto his back. Flying lessons had been one of Severus's worst experiences at Hogwarts, nearly having been bucked off his own broom, and he'd rarely been on one since. Travelling by Floo powder was just fine until he learned to Apparate, thank you very much.

"Severus, that was first year, I'm sure you're much better now!" Sirius insisted.

"Wouldn't bet your new broom on it," Severus mumbled, jerking his book in front of his face. Having forgotten how heavy it was, he brought it a bit too close and banged his nose rather painfully. Luckily, Sirius didn't see.

"Well, don't think not flying is going to get you out of going to Quidditch matches with me, because it's not! We're against Ravenclaw next week, and you're coming if I have to drag you there. And we're winning this time, so nobody's going to get upset!" Sirius told him as he headed out the door.

Dolt, Severus thought. Maybe Severus didn't go into conniptions at the very thought of the game, and he certainly didn't secretly keep a tear-out of the Falmouth Falcons seeker under his mattress, but he still wouldn't dare miss a match. Quidditch was practically the only thing he deemed worth putting down a book for, and Sirius knew it.

Slytherin's first match this past November had resulted in a close loss against Gryffindor, an occurrence which had sparked one of the only true fights Severus and Sirius had ever had.

James Potter was chaser for Gryffindor again this year, and despite the Slytherins' highly disruptive booing, he managed the position brilliantly. Severus's throat had been sore from the unaccustomed yelling, his shoulder hurt where someone had shoved him, and even with a warming spell, his toes were inhumanly cold in his worn shoes and holey socks as they trekked back to the dungeons. Sirius was talking about broomsticks and ugly-haired gits and what the Slytherin team SHOULD have done to Potter, and Severus had told him to shut up, there was nothing he could do to change the fact they'd lost, so stop going on about it.

Sirius had said something back about him not understanding Quidditch in the least if he could talk like that, and Severus had countered with what he deemed a highly accurate, expletive-filled assessment of Sirius's own mental capacity. That it had actually come to blows demonstrated perfectly what a hold the sport had on them both, as Severus was always insulting Sirius's intelligence to no ill effect.

Severus had ended up with some nasty bruises, and they hadn't spoken for three whole days. It had been utter misery. Sirius was surely the only living being capable of being so unspeakably loud without uttering a single word.

Just when Severus had felt about to explode from the strain of it all, the utter ear-splitting silence, Sirius had burst into tears, fallen at Severus's feet, and begged to be forgiven. "I swear I didn't mean it, Severus! I'd completely lost my mind! Quidditch fever had taken me over! Please don't hate me forever and become best mates with a Gryffindor to punish me! I was so so SO WRONG!"

Given the truth of this statement and Sirius's relative stress level at the time (it took place in the heat of the Evans Fiasco, as Severus had taken to calling it), Severus had granted the other boy clemency. He had even said some mildly supportive things about his next choice of gifts.

Slytherin's second match was an entirely different story. Severus had warm new socks, and this match was against Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw was a team well-known for being more brains than brawn, and luckily for Slytherin, their current team had both.

Despite Slytherin's obvious and undeniable superiority, the match lasted nearly three hours. Sirius chalked it up to the thin layer of ice that was shimmering over the grounds, remnants of a winter storm the night before. "All that glare is bound to interfere with Nott's vision. Shiny ice, shiny snitch-- even a professional seeker would have a hard time of it."

In the end, all shininess aside, Slytherin left the pitch with the win, 310 to 200. Their second Quidditch match happily won and the points in Slytherin's grasp, there were no fights, and things went back to normal that very night. That is to say, Severus studied like one possessed, and Sirius pestered him and obsessed over Gryffindors whilst getting top points on nearly everything without bothering to crack a book.

It wasn't right at all that he could do this, and it made Severus so angry that he stayed up all night revising for History of Magic and Astronomy, which he'd been neglecting of late. The next night, he felt guilty for spending so much time away from his Defence text, so he forced himself to stay awake until he'd re-read the entire thing again.

The night after that, he was so tired he couldn't sleep, so he sat in the common room in front of the fire drawing diagrams of the anatomy of various magical creatures until his quill began slipping from his fingers. The wild, inky trails it left across his parchment as it spiralled to the desk brought to mind the undulations of dancing girls. Not seeing the purpose in returning to his room at such a late hour, he curled up in his cushy green chair, tipped his chin down against his chest in a way he knew would make him snore even worse than usual, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Sirius woke him up a few hours later and dragged him up for breakfast, but he felt groggy and bleary-eyed. Without a single protest, he munched soggy toast and helped Sirius come up with a plan to replace the Gryffindor boys' regular school ink with magical disappearing ink so that their homework would go blank overnight.

Severus should've known straight off that all this unthinking helpfulness was a bad sign.

"So what do you think they do, anyway?" Sirius asked him in the middle of Transfiguration, quite out of the blue.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're on about," Severus told him, scowling through an insomnia-induced daze. Why did his buggering pincushion still have hedgehog feet? No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get rid of them. It made no sense at all; he was usually fairly good with Transfiguration. He'd even gone so far as to ask Sirius for help, but although he'd got it on his third try, he couldn't explain how he'd done it. Sirius could never explain anything.

"They always come to class looking all sickly, and Lupin doesn't come at all. I think they're up to something."

Severus sighed. Indeed, the Gryffindor boys looked like Hell warmed over, and Lupin had been conspicuously absent again this morning at breakfast, but it's not as if that was anything new. He informed Sirius of this.

"Yeah, but why? I mean, it happens all the time! Does Lupin have something contagious? I couldn't bear to catch some Gryffindor disease. How vile. Haven't you got rid of the feet yet?"

Severus looked back down at his pincushion, which was now attempting to walk off his desk. "Why do you always ask things you already know the answers to?" he demanded, feeling the onset of a headache as he stared down at the creature. "And if he had anything catching, he wouldn't be allowed here around everyone else, now would he?"

Sirius pondered that for a moment as he Transfigured his pincushion into a hedgehog and back again. Just like him to rub it in. "You're right. Probably just the jumpers, then."

"What the hell are you saying? What jumpers?"

"Mr Snape, Mr Black," McGonagall's sharp voice cut through the drone of working students, "is there a problem?"

"No, Professor," Severus answered quickly, changing his awkwardly ambling pincushion back into a slightly dazed hedgehog to have another go at it.

"So as I was saying," Sirius continued, a bit quieter this time, "I think Lupin's jumpers might be contagious."

With a wave of Severus's wand, his hedgehog was now footless, but also very clearly without a pincushion. "I refuse to justify that comment with a response."

"No, let me explain, it all makes perfect sense," Sirius told him, and Severus knew immediately that what was about to come out of his mouth would be entirely incomprehensible. "You see, Lupin's illness is all on account of his jumpers. You've seen how shabby they are, he even has one with a hole in the sleeve he fusses with and sticks his thumb through. After wearing them for so long, they're leaching into his system! And the other Gryffin-shites used to be fine, but this year, they're starting in. Pettigrew has rips in his trousers, he always leaves his robes open and you can see them, and Potter's tie is fraying at the bottom, plus he's a tear in the neck of his blue jumper with the green edging. AND they're both looking tired and sickly. They've caught Lupin's Jumper Sickness!"

It was at this point that Severus realized he was gaping. He jerked his head back to his footless hedgehog, determined to turn it into a pincushion even if it killed him. If the kind of moron who made up imaginary histories of contagious jumpers could do it, then he sure as hell could do as well.

Except that he couldn't.

His mind kept drifting to Quidditch and _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_ and sickly Gryffindor thumbs in shabby Gryffindor jumpers and dark-eyed dancing girls, and he was too tired, he couldn't do it at all. He couldn't transfigure the hedgehog. All his trying was worthless.

He was worthless.

Nothing he did would ever turn out right, and he could never change anything, save anyone. He was stuck, stuck in this life, in this body, in this mind that couldn't even manage to Transfigure a worthless hedgehog into a worthless pincushion, and he would never escape. He was worthless and doomed, and everyone could tell just by looking at him, but nobody did, they didn't look at him, they looked through him, because there was nothing to see, nothing but worthless, pointless, incapable, powerless, doomed--

"Severus!" He nearly jumped out of his skin as Sirius's hand touched his shoulder. "Hey, you don't look so good. You alright?"

Severus didn't answer. He just stared at the malformed hedgehog in front of him, unblinking, defeated and empty inside.

"Professor," he heard Sirius say very loudly, "I think Severus is feeling ill!"

He wasn't. It was just this bloody Untransfigurable hedgehog that was tearing his dreams to shreds. He hated it. He hated everything.

"Mr Black, what is-- oh my," he heard Professor McGonagall's voice beside him.

"It wasn't a spell, I don't think," Sirius's voice said. "He just suddenly got really still and turned all white like that. Well, not really white, more of a parchmenty yellowish colour, since all he does is read and he's absorbing the paper through osmosis or something, so--"

"Mr Snape, do you require a trip to the infirmary?" McGonagall's voice said again.

No, he wanted to say. To the morgue. My life is over. Only one of us could survive, and it's the hedgehog that won out.

"Mr Snape, are you unwell?" he heard McGonagall's voice ask him, but all he could do was grip his wand tighter and tremble at the sight of the spiny mammal staring up at him with its pincushiony little eyes.

There was a flurry of movement around him, and Severus felt strong hands on his back, turning him away from his table, his nemesis, and guiding him slowly to the door. "Come on, Severus, we'll get you a nice Calming Draught, everything's going to be fine. You great baby."

The infirmary was calm and quiet and smelled of lemon scented cleaning charms. Severus had only been there a handful of times, mainly visiting Sirius, but he found the room relaxing, and Madam Pomfrey's presence quite comforting.

"…the stress of it all… unprepared, I tell them every year… should teach the students to moderate their studies… maybe when I've more seniority… up on the bed now, Mr Snape, there we go, now drink this…" he heard her firm yet consoling voice say.

The cup she'd given him was full of something warm and slightly sweet with a consistency reminiscent of distilled murtlap essence. It left his tongue and throat feeling numb, and the sensation spread to the rest of him as he let Madam Pomfrey's gentle but firm hands lie him back against a soft feather pillow.

"I'll nick you a hedgehog so you can practice later," Sirius's voice said quietly in his ear. "And I'll skive off the rest of Transfiguration in your honour." And then the world spun gently and went black.

XXXXX

When Severus awoke, he felt a million times better, despite the lingering grogginess. Opening his eyes, he saw that the room was dark, and he wondered vaguely if the potion had damaged his vision. When the rest of his senses returned to him, he realized the darkness he was seeing was that of night, the room lit dimly by a few candles. He'd slept through the entire day.

He'd slept through the entire day.

Severus jerked up, suddenly in a panic, as this realization hit him. He'd missed Defence! His beloved DADA! After all the careful rereading, he'd slept straight through it! A steady stream of detention-worthy expletives that would've made Sirius giddy was slipping from his lips, and he didn't even care. It was a tragedy of the absolute highest order, and he HAD to get back to his room and get the homework!

Leaping to his feet, he hoisted his book bag (someone deserving of an award had placed it handily at the foot of his bed) onto his shoulder and set about the business of getting himself out of the infirmary.

"James, is that you?"

The voice stopped him in his tracks. It was rough and masculine and did in no way belong to Madam Pomfrey.

He suddenly realized he wasn't alone. A bed in the far corner had a large white drape pulled around it. A moment later, the drape was pulled aside.

"I told you two tossers already, don't come until--"

Before the drape was yanked quickly shut, Severus caught a glimpse of sleep-mussed brown hair, worn trousers, and the stark white skin of a thin, boyish chest.

"Oh. Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I--" spluttered Lupin in embarrassment, "James and Peter usually come to… I didn't-- well, I'm usually alone here, so…"

The boy was odd, of that Severus was certain. "I don't care. I just need to find Madam Pomfrey so I can get back to the dungeons."

"Oh, right, well…" he heard the sound of clothing being quickly pulled on, "it's ah, too late, actually. Past hours. She won't let you leave now. Might as not lay back down, I'd think."

"You must be joking." Of course he wasn't joking. Lupin wouldn't know a joke if it jumped up and bit him. And he'd surely been here often enough to know the rules. Severus dropped his bag with a thud at his feet.

"So sorry," the other boy replied, sounding more tired than sorry. "There's fruit in the bowl there, and some rolls, if you're hungry… not much, but then, beggars and all…"

Half-heartedly dragging his bag with him, Severus slumped down onto his bed. It was either stay here or face Mrs Norris and a probable dozen detentions. Bugger. Best to see what books he had and revise a bit more then. Perhaps his Charms essay for Wednesday was packed in his bag somewhere…

"Are you, ah, feeling better, then?" Lupin had emerged from his cocoon of white draping, fully clothed this time in a ripped grey jumper and robes, and was pulling the heavy draperies to the side with some effort. They slid on their track with the sharp sound of metal on metal. "I heard them bring you in… Sleeping Draught, was it?"

"It's none of your business," Severus told him, rather upset that he hadn't found his Charms essay. In fact, there wasn't much of any value at all in his bag, and he tossed it down onto the bed beside him in a huff.

"Ah, of course. Yes that's, I mean, not that I… it wasn't meant to seem prying, but ah… Black, he was… you know, well, he was here with you. When you came. I mean, when you came into the infirmary. Here. So I thought maybe…" he trailed off.

"What is wrong with you?" Severus asked, disgusted.

Lupin looked alarmed. "I'm just… sick, weak constitution and that--"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Well, does it affect your vocal cords?"

Lupin blinked vaguely across the room at him. "My what?"

"Your vocal cords, the things you talk with!" Severus fumed. "You've hardly managed a complete sentence this entire time, so I was wondering if your sickness affected your vocal cords or if you were just too stupid to string that many words together properly!" He couldn't believe he was to be stuck in this room all night with a sickly, inarticulate Gryffindor, of all people.

"Oh," Lupin said with a sigh that sounded quite relieved. "No, I reckon I'm just stupid. Yes, very stupid, indeed…"

Severus couldn't help but find himself impressed by accuracy of this statement. "Do you often partake in such altruistic acts of self-depreciation," he asked, "or should I feel exceptionally honoured by such a momentous occurrence?"

Lupin's laugh rattled in his throat. "Do you usually talk as though you're reading from a text?"

"Usually only when I want Sirius to leave me alone," Severus told him rather frankly.

A grin lit the other boy's pale, drawn face as he sat himself gingerly on the edge of his bed. "I wish that worked on James. He gets going sometimes about, well, anything really, and he's just…" he shrugged. "Well, I suppose I'd go on as well if I'd the energy, or the…"

As Lupin shifted uncomfortably, Severus looked around for his wand, which he'd just now realized he was missing. It was nowhere to be found. He'd had it in class though, so maybe Sirius had taken it back to their room. If it was lost, he'd have that boy's scruffy-haired head.

Lupin cleared his throat. "Could I… could I ask you something? About… well, you're friends with… with Black, right? I always see you two, you know, together, I mean around each other, during the day, and…" Severus raised an eyebrow, wondering if the question would come any time this century. "Is he… finished? With-- with Evans?"

"Finished," Severus snorted. "I hadn't realized he'd ever started." To Lupin's perplexed look, he added, "He never cared a whit about her in the first place, obviously. Just another of his addle-minded plots. How do you stand him, anyway? Potter, I mean."

Lupin didn't seem to hear his question and was turning a strangely sickly shade of salmony-pink. "So… I mean, I'm only asking because… well, James has liked her for absolutely ever, and he was really extraordinarily difficult to live with for a while there…"

"Though that was a much longer and more understandable phrase, you've still obviously not realized that I DON'T CARE," Severus told him just to be rude, as he flopped bonelessly back on his bed. Stupid infirmary, stupid book bag, stupid pasty Gryffindor. He then thought to add, "You're not catching, are you?"

"Oh--" Lupin started.

He didn't have time to finish the statement though, as the door suddenly swung open and hit the wall with a loud crash. Nearby bottles of remedies rattled on their shelves. Then the door slammed shut. Strangely though, no one was AT the door.

"Darling sweet princess Moony, have you finished your monthlies? Was there much terrible cramping? Heavy flow? Are your girl bits still--"

"James!" Lupin shouted hoarsely at the disembodied voice.

"What? I'm just joking! And Peter's-- WHAT in Merlin's name is THAT doing here?!" And suddenly James Potter was standing in the doorway, a silvery grey cloak hanging from his right hand.

"I tried to warn you," Severus heard Lupin murmur.

Potter said something back, but Severus didn't hear him. "An invisibility cloak," he whispered. This was his first time seeing one. They were incredibly rare, incredibly valuable, and Severus couldn't imagine much he wouldn't do to get his hands on one. In fact, the sight of the candlelight flickering off its finely-woven surface sent strange tingles through him.

Potter yanked it behind his back. "What're you looking at, you ugly git?" he snarled.

Severus scowled. Stupid rich, smelly Gryffindors who had everything and deserved none of it. "Oh, just take your little girlfriend and leave!" he spat.

"What did you just say?" Potter demanded as Lupin spluttered in the background.

Severus was reaching for his wand when he remembered, to his horror, that he didn't have it. He was alone, without his wand, without Sirius, defenceless. Severus sneered at the Gryffindor boys, wishing for all he was worth that there were some way to hex empty-handed.

Potter laughed wickedly and drew his wand. "What's with the snivelling face, Snape? Forgot something? Did snivelly little Snape forget his wee little wandy?"

"James," Lupin interjected, "I'm really tired and, and my leg hurts, let's just--"

"What's the matter Snivelly, can't do anything without Black? Need him to wipe your bitty bottom for you?"

"James," Lupin was tugging the cloak out of his hands, "if you don't stop, someone's going to hear you, and--"

"FINE!" Potter yanked the cloak back, nearly knocking Lupin to the ground. "Alright, fine. Let's just go and leave this hideous, greasy-haired slime here, completely untouched--"

Lupin signed. "Thank you, James."

Potter gave him one last scathing glare as he threw the cloak over the two of them and they vanished from sight. "Tell Black I'll have him," his voice said from the empty space the boys had just been standing in, "if it's the last thing I do!"

The next morning, Severus was released by Madam Pomfrey, and he was the one to wake Sirius for a change.

"An invisibility cloak!" his dorm mate gasped, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "So that's how they've been doing it! I knew they were up to something! Wait, how did you find out?"

Severus told him about Lupin in the infirmary whilst Sirius stretched and made various other overtures of fully waking. "Remus Lupin, hmm? What was he like then? I mean, other than peaky and… and jumpery?"

"He was…" What was he? Spluttering and vaguely incomprehensible surely, but surprisingly agreeable otherwise. And fairly intelligent as well, all things considered. Severus rather liked him. "…hopeless. Utter Gryffindor dung-for-brains dunderhead."

Sirius was suitably pleased with this response. "I'm going to spy on them," he determined.

Sirius contemplated a suitable plan of action with his usual single-minded focus all the way down to breakfast. The Great Hall was still rather empty and quiet when they arrived, so Sirius dumped Regulus's cereal in his lap to compensate.

"Sirius!" the boy yelped, sugary milk dribbling down his robes.

"The problem is, how do you trail someone in an invisibility cloak?" Sirius pondered aloud. "I mean, how do you even find them in the first place if they're invisible?"

Severus shrugged, sliding in next to Aubrey and dishing himself up eggs and kippers. "That's disgusting," Aubrey told him, poking with his fork at the egg yolk oozing onto his fish.

Sirius reached over Severus's head and cuffed him. "Don't mess with his food or he won't eat it, and he's skinny enough already. Pass me the bacon."

Severus slurped his lovely runny eggs and purposefully put his eggy mouth all over the rim of Sirius's glass when he stole a drink of juice. Aubrey gagged when Sirius drank from it.

"Hogsmeade weekend coming up. You going?" Sirius asked.

"Waste of time," Severus replied and wondered if Sirius's body was composed of ninety percent bacon. He certainly ate enough of it. Of course, the same could be said of him and eggs, and he didn't feel terribly egg-like. Well, maybe a little.

Merlin, what was wrong with him that he was attempting to use Arithmancy to determine his relative egg consistency?

"That's all well and good I suppose, since I've my meeting anyway," Sirius told him, licking his fingers loudly. "You remember," he leaned in close to Severus's ear, "the dancing girls?"

Severus felt his face flame and took a long drink of Sirius's juice.

"Black!" Severus was highly relieved when the harsh voice boomed through the hall. "You're DEAD!"

"Right on cue," Sirius smirked.

"I don't know how you did it, but Peter's Potions homework is completely blank, and I KNOW it's your fault!" Severus looked up, a large piece of fish dangling half out of his mouth, to see a furious James Potter, trailed by a meek and teary-eyed Pettigrew. Severus felt his hand go to his wand, which Sirius had given him back this morning.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. "Mr Potter!" Professor McGonagall's voice called out. "Do sit down quietly, or I shall be forced to take points."

A look of intense irritation passed over the Gryffindor boy's face. "This isn't over," he spat and stalked off to the Gryffindor table, Pettigrew sniffling at his heels like a kicked puppy.

Pettigrew's desperate homework situation still hadn't changed by the time they entered the Potions classroom, and the Gryffindor's explanation to the Slytherin Head of House met with deaf ears. Too bad for him, thought Severus. He should've minded his ink.

Severus had been enjoying Slughorn's class more since he'd been paired up with Evans. This wasn't because he liked potions more, just that the class itself had become wickedly intriguing. Ever since he'd witnessed Evans's deviant methods of potion alteration, he'd been spying on her at intervals, trying to catch her at this dangerous little game. Through careful and vigilant observation, he'd found her guilty not only of the wanton, unprescribed mixing he'd witnessed earlier, but also of shamelessly improper chopping and underhanded, weak-fingered stirring.

Only after he'd seen her change a recipe two or three times would he hazard attempting such recklessness himself, but when he did, he found that the end product always turned out as well as the text instructions, if not better. It unnerved him to no end.

He made up his mind to speak with her about it just after the first Hogsmeade weekend. This plan was thwarted though, by Sirius's tales of dancing girls.

Lucius Malfoy had been good to his word, and Sirius had come back to Hogwarts with liquor on his breath and tales of a particular witch named (improbably) Edna, and her ample bosom.

"You should've come, Severus! The way she shook them! The look on Nott's face alone was worth it, I swear!" Sirius told him, twirling about their dorm in a way no inebriated person should without heaving up his insides.

Severus felt ill just watching him, which did nothing for his attempts to Transfigure the bag of jelly slugs Sirius had brought him back from Honeyduke's into an aardvark. His Transfiguration had really gone to Hell lately. He hated dancing girls. "Why was Nott there?"

"Oh, there was a fair lot of us-- Nott, Avery, Pritchard, Lestrange, Bulstrode… and a couple others I didn't know, graduated already, I think. You should really come next time, you'd like the politics. All this about the Chamber of Secrets and the Knights of Walpurgis and purebloods--"

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Severus snapped, distinctly aardvarkless. "Purebloods! What nonsense. He's just trying to recruit you because you're a Black. You HATE being a Black! I can't believe you're falling for it. What do you care about blood anyway? Your worst enemy is as pureblood as they come, you dolt!"

"Stop yelling! I've got a pleasant buzz right now, and you're ruining it with all this wretched Potter talk!"

Severus fumed. "Look, I don't care! I don't care about your stupid politics or your stupid new best mate Lucius or your stupid dancing girls, or--"

"Edna put her hand in my robes."

Severus dropped his wand.

"You should really, REALLY come next time, Severus!"

After such a conversation, speaking to someone like Lily Evans had seemed terribly lewd. Thus, it wasn't until February that Severus finally felt enough at ease to attempt it.

"I wanted to ask you something, Evans," he told her. Class had just finished, and Sirius was trailing the Gryffindors in his continuing espionage attempt, so they were relatively alone.

"The answer's no," she told him rather brusquely, shoving her books in her bag.

Highly annoying. "It's not a yes or no question."

Evans eyed him suspiciously. "It's not about Madam Puddifoot's?"

It took him a moment before he could even form a proper response. "What?"

"Madam-- oh, never mind," she sighed. "What is it?"

"I'd like to know what I'm being accused of asking you first," he countered.

"Look, I'm sorry, but the answer's no. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. It's just that I've been asked six times in the past twenty-four hours, and I'm getting really sick of it."

Severus thought she had cheek to say something that bizarre yet look at him as if he were the crazy one. Gryffindors were indeed ghastly creatures, and he would put an end to this right now. "Evans, I have no idea what you're going on about, and I wish you'd stop because frankly, it's giving me a headache. I wanted to ask you something about Potions, if you can get your mind around the concept."

"Potions?"

"Yes, you know, class we have together in this room, Professor Slughorn, shrivelfigs? Potions, Evans!"

"I know what Potions is, Snape!"

"Then you know it has nothing to do with tea shops!"

To this she gave him that same look, the one that implied he'd gone completely off his nut, and Severus wanted to hex it right off her face. No amount of potions expertise was worth this sort of abuse. "Never mind," he told her as he turned to go. "I wasn't THAT interested."

Sirius was as baffled as he was. "Why would you want to talk about Madam Puddifoot's? What the hell's that got to do with anything?" Sitting in the common room, he was drawing something boxy and oblong on the back of an old homework paper.

"I should've known better than to attempt an actual conversation with a Gryffindor. What's that?" Severus motioned toward the paper.

"Map," Sirius told him. "What possible connection could she have with Madam Puddifoot's that six people already asked her about it?"

"That is the worst map I've ever seen," Severus informed him. "It looks like a two-year-old drew it. Do you think there's some rumour, maybe?"

"I just STARTED the map, so of course it's no good yet, but I need a better plan. Lupin was GONE again yesterday, and I didn't catch them in the cloak!" Sirius seemed quite despondent about it. "What sort of rumour? You don't think she did something indecent there? Caught snogging a seventh year in the men's toilet, you think?"

"But why would I ask her about it? None of my business who she snogs. In fact, just thinking about it has me feeling rather… violently ill. And how is a map going to help you catch them?"

Sirius grinned up at him and pointed with his quill at the messy amalgamation of geometric patterns on his parchment. "If they're wandering about the school at night, most likely going outside from the sorry state of their clothes, then there has to be a way to track them. Even in an invisibility cloak, they still have to use doors, right? So when I figure out all the possible ways they could be leaving, I'll set traps at each of them so I'll know when they go past. That way, I can trail them and find out where they're going. I've got to find all the possibilities first though. This place is bloody huge."

"I'm sure there's a map in the library that doesn't look like it was produced by rampantly mating quadrangles," Severus snorted. "Really, how can you even read that?"

"You know I don't do libraries. That's what I have you for. And I can read it just fine, here's the Great Hall, and the Main Entryway, and the corridor that leads to the stairs by the Arithmancy classroom, and if I draw a little hook over this way, that'd lead to the…"

"Stop, Sirius," he pulled the quill from the other boy's hand. "Just stop. My brain cells are withering and dying as we speak. I've had enough trauma with Evans and tea shops today, I don't need you jumbling things up any worse."

"My advice," Sirius told him, grabbing his quill back and waving it with a flourish, "is that you forget all about Evans and Puddifoot's. No good can come of such thoughts, when Gryffindors are involved."

"You asked Evans about Madam Puddifoot's?" a voice asked from behind them.

Severus turned to see Davy Stebbins approaching, an amused look on his face. Severus was not pleased and wished he'd thought to go to their dorm instead of hanging about in the common room. "Of course not, why would I?"

Stebbins's buck-toothed mouth twisted into a grin that might've been sly if he didn't look so incredibly dim. "Oh, don't play dumb with me! I know you know. So what'd she say? Half the school's probably asked her!"

"Actually," Sirius told him, "he doesn't know, and she didn't say anything. Now explain before I hex your arse cheeks together."

"Cor, you two are dense!" he exclaimed. "Valentines Day, you ninnies! It's this weekend!"

Sirius made a noise of high-pitched glee as Severus's stomach twisted. "Valentines Day? She thinks I…"

"She thinks you were asking her out!" Sirius's eyes were wide as saucers.

Severus couldn't remember ever having felt so humiliated in his entire life. Throwing his bag on the floor, he stormed out into the corridor. His heart was thumping in his ears, and his teeth were clenched so hard his jaw ached as he pounded up the stairs out of the dungeon. He heard Sirius clomping after him, but the other boy knew better than to attempt to stop him when he was taken by one of his fits of fury.

Evans was bent studiously over _A Standard Book of Spells_ at her cluttered library desk and didn't notice Severus until he yanked it out from under her hand.

"How dare you!" he shouted, throwing the book onto the floor. It landed with a flurry of pages and scattered notes.

Evans stared up at him, a blank look on her face as though she couldn't begin to comprehend what had just happened.

"How dare you make such assumptions of me! I wanted to talk to you about Potions, about how you know to mix and cut things they way you do, why yours come out better than the book, not about some disgusting holiday! You think every boy here wants you so much it's the only thing they ever think of? This is a school, Evans! Some people actually come here TO LEARN!" He shouted the last words so loudly that a girl halfway across the library squeaked.

The whole room was staring, and Madam Pince was sure to be here soon. "If I wanted to go to Madam Puddifoot's with someone so egotistical they can't think of anything but how much everyone else thinks of them, I would've as soon asked--" he caught sight of Sirius watching them conspicuously from the end of the row and pointed, "him!"

"SEVERUS SNAPE! OUT, OUT!" the librarian's shrill voice cut through the stunned silence. Her stern face atop her vulture-neck bobbed up and down behind a shelf as she approached with alarming speed.

Severus turned back to Evans, who was now pink in the cheeks and staring at him with an embarrassedly horrified expression.

"Get over yourself!" Severus spat. And then he turned on his heel and stalked away before Pince managed to throw him out.

He wasn't two seconds out the door when Evans came flying after him. "Snape, wait! Snape!"

But he was not about to give her the satisfaction of waiting. Not to someone who was rich, brilliant, popular, and so beautiful she'd had six boys ask her out for Valentines in one day when nobody would ever, ever ask someone like Severus.

He would not give in, even when she was chasing after him and apologizing so sincerely, because she just didn't deserve it. But when she suddenly shouted, "Cooking!" he found he couldn't help himself. Cooking?

"That's how I know. Cooking. My Mum and I used to cook all the time, I've been doing it since before I can remember. It's the exact same thing, just without magic, and I'm really, really, so sorry I misunderstood you," she panted, her silky red hair falling messily around her face. "But the answer's cooking."

XXXXX

Severus couldn't stay angry with Evans for long because it didn't make logical sense for him to do. After all, she was a Gryffindor; idiocy was in her blood. You could as much ask a Gryffindor to be a rational human being as you could ask an ogre to be a kitten. Also, being the good Slytherin that Severus was, he felt duty-bound to use this situation to his advantage.

But really, cooking?

He pondered this conundrum as he suffered through another impossible session of afternoon Transfiguration, poked uninterestedly at his dinner of shepherd's pie, and laid on his bed that evening distractedly checking his Arithmancy homework for errors while reverently tracing the cover of his DADA text with the tips of his fingers. He fell asleep on top of his duvet still wearing his robes, the swirl of mixing frogspawn casseroles in his head and Sirius's low voice plotting Gryffindor extinction in his ear.

He awoke early the next morning with Sirius's thigh wedged between his own and Sirius's drool dribbling down his cheek, and he cursed the fact that his curtains weren't drawn and immediately tipped the other boy onto the floor.

"Buggering FUCK that hurt," Sirius said in a groggy voice, rubbing his forehead.

"Then stop molesting me in my sleep," Severus countered.

"As if I can control what I do when I'm asleep," Sirius groused. "Besides, better me than Evans, right?"

Severus wiped disgustedly at the spittle on his cheek and informed Sirius that if he followed him into the showers, he'd hex his bits off. He took his wand in case the other boy decided to call his bluff. When he came back, Sirius was asleep on the floor where he'd left him, and Severus decided a trip to the library before Charms was in order.

He felt more than a bit silly thumbing through _Enchantment in Baking_ with Madam Pince glaring accusingly at him from behind the circulation desk, but it's not as though there was anything he could do about it. Research was research, and it was necessary, silly or not.

In the next week, he learned more about cooking than he'd ever care to admit, sifting through Hogwarts' entire stock of books on the subject with every free moment. It was extremely fortunate that he'd already read his DADA text eleven times through and memorized every line, so he didn't feel entirely immoral for abandoning it a while.

Sirius, who hadn't heard what Evans had told him in the corridor, had taken to staring at him oddly. He asked no questions though, undoubtedly afraid of the responses he'd get. Severus was forced to hex him only once during this entire process, when the other boy wouldn't shut up about how hungry the talking French pastry book was making him.

Severus soon came to realize that if one had a grasp of the basic principles, then substitutions, amendments, and even wild improvisations could be made; and if it was so with the yeast and eggs and nutmeg and such with cooking, then it would be the same with the dittany, gurdyroot, and unicorn hair with Potions. Thus, after cookbooks, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures took the brunt of his newfound devotion. Knowledge was power, and he was determined to know everything.

Professor Kettleburn was more than happy to inform Severus as to the proper harvesting of graphorn horns and murtlap tumors, and he was thrilled beyond expectation at being asked about the egg-laying habits of runespoors. The man naturally assumed that Severus had taken a sudden great interest in his subject, and Severus milked it for as many trips to the Restricted Section as he could.

Happily, he found the Herbology professor just as easily swayed. Severus was also pleasantly surprised to learn that Sirius knew a good deal about the properties of magical plants, especially dangerous ones, as his family evidently kept rather a large garden of them. Tales about his brother Regulus's near-death encounters with Venomous Tentaculas certainly broke up the monotony of Sirius's infamous Gryffindor Rants.

Severus had to admit though, that he was rather impressed with his dorm mate's ingenuity. His map no longer looked as though a plethora of squares had thrown up on it, and he was experimenting with different methods of intrusion detection and tracking spells. It wasn't at all unusual now to be blinded by magnificent flashes of light, hear eardrum-shattering explosions, or be turned strange colours when entering their dorm.

And the application of Sirius's experiments was quite clearly paying off, as all three Gryffindor boys came to class one day with singed robes and purple hair.

Sirius had also begun what he'd dubbed the Jumper Diary, in which he noted suspicious Gryffindor activities, of which there were many. Of course, weeding out the behaviour that was actually suspicious from such things as "James Potter was a particular arse today," or, "Remus Lupin looked more jumpery than usual" proved particularly difficult for Sirius.

And difficulties, of course, led to the inevitable.

"If you don't stop bouncing on my bed, so help me Black, I'll--"

"But you're so much better than I am with this organization rubbish… numbers and dates and," he paused contemplatively mid-bounce, glancing at the open date book in his hand, "and jumpers, and putting them all together and making something out of it… you're really brilliant at it! You're the absolute genius master of--"

"You could try flattery some time other than when you want something from me, you know," Severus told him peevishly. _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_ was jiggling in time with Sirius's bounces, and he kept losing his place. Indeed, even the illustration of the famous Potions Master Libatius Borage seemed to be getting a bit seasick.

"Why the hell… would I want… to do that?" Sirius asked, a bit out of breath but continuing nonetheless.

"Look, I agree the Gryffindors are up to something, jumpers or no, but I'm busy."

"You're ALWAYS busy!" Sirius shouted, and the bouncing stopped, much to Severus (and Mr Borage's) relief. "Just five minutes, come on!"

"Absolutely not."

"Snape," Sirius panted. "Consider your options. You humour my flattery once more and… take five minutes to look at the… damn Diary and have done with it, or… I go back to bouncing and do it all night-- and you know I can-- and prevent you from having… even a single moment's peace. Your choice."

Severus slammed his book shut, and Borage let out a startled squeak. "Give me a single, factual piece of evidence to convince me you are worth my time."

"I've got a whole book of factual evidence! Okay, okay!" Sirius replied, noting Severus's disdainful look. "Alright, so there's this… Lupin's absences… they're almost on the same day every month! Look!"

Severus took hold of the book that was being shoved unceremoniously in his face and followed Sirius's pointing finger to the seventh of the month. "What is that big T for?"

"It's not a T, it's a jumper! The arms are stretched out! And see, it's ripped here, like his green one--"

"You're mad," Severus told him and flipped the page back a month. Sirius was leaning over him, so he gave him a shove back onto the mattress for good measure. The odd-looking T shape appeared again among the myriad of flurried scribbles, on the seventh. The month previous though, it appeared on the ninth, and the month before that, it went back to the seventh, only to revert once more to the ninth in January. Nine seven nine seven seven.

"Useless," Severus proclaimed, flipping the book closed. "You haven't been watching him long enough to form a proper pattern. It's simple Arithmancy. And a bit of advice: don't let anyone else see this book, or you'll be thrown in prison. This definitely constitutes stalking, and I'm not testifying on your behalf."

Sirius mumbled something about how Severus never respected Sirius's research, which was infinitely more important than rat spleens and Flitterbloom, and Azkaban being nice this time of year, and how he was going to set all sort of traps next month and catch those wankers because he knew they were guilty.

Severus, of course, could make nothing of this mindless babble and threw the book back at Sirius, turning back to his own, much more reasonable research.

XXXXX

Severus hadn't melted a cauldron since second year, and he'd certainly never exploded one. The fact that he'd managed it the last class of his fourth year, when even Pettigrew had outgrown it, made him want to hide under a rock for the rest of his natural existence. Sirius would tell him later that he'd done it with such gusto that no one thought the worse of him, but Severus didn't believe a word of it. He knew for a fact that they were all laughing at him behind his back.

When Professor Slughorn had finally counteracted the various chain reactions, righted the upturned tables, and sent the afflicted parties to the infirmary, he asked Severus very genially to "hold back just a moment" from heading to his next class. When the other students had left, he sat his portly body behind his desk and motioned for Severus to join him.

"M'boy, that was quite a magnificent eruption. However did you manage to turn it pink like that?" he asked.

Severus wished with all his might that the ground would open up and swallow him. How was he to get out of this without admitting he'd only done it because Evans had? "I…" he came up with a quick lie, "I read somewhere that if you mix salamander blood and belladonna first in a separate bowl and then set them aside until they're needed, they'd stir in more evenly, but when I tried it, they congealed. When I added them to the potion, I could hardly stir it, and… Sir, why does it work when Evans does it?"

"Evans?" he asked, his interest level suddenly raised several notches.

"Yes, sir," Severus told him. "She's always doing things like that. Deviating from the recipe. I noticed it first when I was partnered with her."

"Oho, keeping an eye on Miss Evans are we, Snape? Well, I can hardly blame you, she does bear watching," he said with a knowing look, and Severus did his best not to gag. "Few times have I had a student with such natural talent. Knows it by instinct-- just when to add what, how many times to stir…"

As Professor Slughorn waxed nostalgic about another student who'd had such skills and something about a benefit concert in Prague, Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But why do her potions come out better than the book," he interrupted, remembering somewhat belatedly to tack on a, "sir? I've been researching like mad, but no matter what instructions I follow, she's always better!"

"Did your parents attend Hogwarts, Mr Snape?" Slughorn asked suddenly.

Severus tensed. "My mother, sir."

"And what was her name?"

"Prince. Eileen Prince."

"Slytherin?"

"Yes sir."

"Hmm…" Slughorn mused. "Can't say I remember her… About twenty years ago, then? No, name doesn't ring a bell… what does she do now?"

"Ah," Severus swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Housewife, sir."

"Ah yes, very good," Slughorn responded. "Are you planning on following in her footsteps?"

Severus blinked. "Sir?"

"I don't aim to demean the useful work of devoted homemakers Mr Snape, don't get me wrong. But while properly rearing future generations may be important, I trust you'll agree that it's hardly noteworthy. A slow slide into oblivion for so many talented young witches," he shook his head mournfully.

"Sir," Severus told him, fussing anxiously with a worn spot on his robes, "I don't see what this has to do with me."

"Mr Snape, I realize it's a bit early to start in about the future, but let me put this to you frankly as both your Professor and Head of House, and someone who has seen many young people like you come and go. You're a talented young man. You are of uncommon intelligence, and when you put your mind to something, you succeed. You know this, and I know this," he said, and Severus leaned closer. "But does anyone else? What do you do to separate yourself from the rest, Mr Snape? What do you do to… stand out?"

Severus was at a loss for words. No one of any importance had ever called him talented before, or intelligent. No one ever wanted to talk about his future. He hadn't been aware anyone thought he had one.

"In order to be great, you must think great," Slughorn continued. "You must aspire to beyond what others think you capable of. If you come back to this school in twenty years, you must be sure that I-- well not me exactly, since I'm planning retirement soon, I've got a modest twenty-room villa outside Naples in mind-- but you must be sure that you will be remembered, Mr Snape. Obscurity, for those of great ambition, is equivalent to death."

Severus felt himself nodding, not sure he'd ever heard something quite so true.

"The reason Lily Evans is great, and will be greater in time, is because she thinks beyond what is written. Research all you like, but it's only a starting point. Learning to think for yourself is the key. You will not become great by being a follower. And unless you want to follow your mother's path, you would do well to take note, Mr Snape. Become something amazing, something incredible, or become nothing at all."

It was as though the man had picked open his brain as one might a lock, prying out exactly what Severus wanted, needed to hear. Something amazing. Something incredible. And Professor Slughorn thought Severus could be that something. Severus was not about to let him down.

"And with that said," Slughorn leaned back in his chair, his immense weight causing it to creak against the strain, "the reason Miss Evans's potion came out and yours did not is because she added a pinch of dried Melilot while stirring to prevent the coagulation, but I suspect that wasn't visible from your angle. Lead, Severus, do not follow. Use that brain we both know you have for something other than aiding Mr Black's crusade against Gryffindor, as… fulfilling as it may be. I could use more from my own house in my little club, yes?"

"Yes, sir," Severus said when he finally regained his voice. "I will, sir." And he swore to himself at that moment that he would. He would be amazing. He would be incredible. He wouldn't end up like his mother. He'd die first.

Unfortunately, becoming amazing and incredible wasn't as easy as it sounded. As there were mere days left until the school year ended, any sort of plan he made would have to be carried out primarily in a small bedroom in Derbyshire without the aid of magic of any kind. Severus didn't want to think about that though. Thus, he distracted himself by hexing the first years' shoes to the ground, jinxing all the food at Gryffindor's table to taste like soap, cursing the Ravenclaws' Arithmancy notes to multiply their divisors by the square roots of their remainders, locking Mrs Norris in the girls' washroom, and trouncing Sirius at Gobstones until the other boy's robes were sopped and disgustingly smelly. Severus hated every moment of it.

Two nights later, the Leaving Feast was over and both the House and Quidditch Cups were in Gryffindor's ham-fisted hands, and Severus couldn't even bring himself to care. With nothing but the trip to Hell for the summer left to look forward to, he didn't even have the heart to revise _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_, much less try out the water Aubrey had managed to Transfigure into rum. Instead, Severus lay in bed with his curtains pulled, reminding himself over and over of what Professor Slughorn had told him.

He would be amazing. He would be incredible. It became something of a mantra. Amazing, incredible, amazing, incredible, amazing, incredible…

His dimly-glowing clock read nearly three in the morning when it failed him.

Everything was quiet save the deep, hushed breathing of his dorm mates, the soft dripping of pipes, and the strange rustling sound he sometimes heard inside the wall behind his bed. It used to frighten him, imagining the strange creatures that crawled, inched, and slithered through the depths of the castle just beyond his sight. Now though, he'd do anything to have them with him always, to never be made to leave this place. If he'd ever had a home at all, it was here.

That night, the dungeon air was dank and stuffy from the hot June weather, but Severus couldn't feel it. Even with his covers pulled tightly to his neck, the chill realization of where he'd be tomorrow sank deep into his bones, and he shivered, feverish sweat running down his forehead. His stomach clenched, head spun, and it was all he could do not to be sick all over himself.

Finally, he gave in.

"Sirius." It was barely a whisper.

A rustle of bedding. "Yeah?"

"Stop being an arse."

A moment later, his curtains were parted, his sheets drawn back, and a warm weight settled in beside him. "I hate this," Sirius whispered. "I hate this, I hate this, I hate this."

"Shut up, I hate you, I'm freezing," Severus murmured inaudibly, rolling toward the warmth.

"I don't want to go, I don't want to go." Sirius's hands were fisting in Severus's nightshirt, and Severus pulled him close, tucking his messy black-haired head under his chin.

Sirius shook against him, and Severus whispered to him how worthless he was, how incapable, how Sirius would never manage alone and was doomed to nothingness, and how no one would love him, ever, ever, ever. Sirius knew what he meant, and he whispered back, it wasn't true, Severus was brilliant and perfect and could do anything, anything he wanted, and Sirius loved him and he'd never be alone, not really, not ever.

Sirius's arms around his chest were so tight Severus could barely breathe, their legs were tangled inextricably, and there was something warm and wet against Severus's neck. What it was, he neither knew nor cared, because it was warm, and real. It wasn't a lie because Sirius, his Sirius, would never lie to him, not at a time like this.

Clutching tightly at Sirius's strong shoulders, feeding off his warmth, Severus closed his eyes and dreamt of never waking up.

TBC


	3. PREFECTS AND DANCING TROLLS

CHAPTER 3: PREFECTS AND DANCING TROLLS

"Strawberry and peanut butter with jelly slugs and nuts, please. Thank you, sir." Severus took the cone, a bit squirmy from the slugs, and handed over the last of his yearly allowance.

He sat in Florean Fortesque's eating his ice cream in his scratchy, second-hand robes, his bag of ratty used textbooks and seconds-grade parchment at his feet. He'd tried to have the hem on his old robe, the nice one he'd had since third year, lowered, but Madam Malkin had said it was no use. The bottom edge was frayed from constant wear, and even if she let out the entire length, it still wouldn't be long enough. It was terribly depressing.

He only had a bit of time before heading to King's Cross and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and back to Hogwarts, and he was so occupied with hating all his new things and forcibly not being excited about seeing Sirius again that he didn't notice the other boy until he spoke.

"No, I think I'll have the chocolate this time," James Potter said. He was leaning over the ice cream counter, only his back and unreasonably messy hair visible to Severus.

"Very good, very good," said the old man beside him. "A chocolate cone for this young man if you will, Florean. Yes, very good."

Severus nearly got up and walked out, relative outside temperature and drippiness of his cone be damned, but something about the old man caught his eye. He was wearing expensive robes of the same light grey colour as his long hair, and his old-fashioned pointed shoes had gold bells on the toes that jingled lightly as he tottered to the register.

"Always a pleasure, Florean," he said in a surprisingly clear and steady voice as he handed over a fistful of coins with a gnarled, jewel-bedecked hand. When he turned, Severus saw behind his whiskers a wrinkled but smiling face with strangely familiar features.

"Pleasure's all mine, Mr Potter," the shop keeper answered. "Fine lad you have there, true credit to Gryffindor House."

"Frightful proud he makes his family, this one," Mr Potter answered back, ruffling the younger Potter's hair. "Clever like his mother he is, and spirited. Plays for the house team, always the highest marks, brightest in his class…"

At this, Severus snorted and licked the melting ice cream from the edge of his cone. A chilled but still squirming gummy slid from the top of the scoop and landed with a plop on the table, and he picked the slippery thing up in his fingers and popped it into his mouth.

When James Potter caught sight of him, his face twisted into a look of disgust. "I'm going to be late!" he told the older Potter imploringly. "We need to pick up my new broom still, and I have to get to King's Cross, the Express leaves at eleven sharp!"

"How convenient the world is today, Florean!" the old man exclaimed with a wave of his hand. "Why, in my day, there was no Hogwarts Express… in fact, there were no railways at all! No decent brooms either… certainly no decent ice cream… yes, I daresay not…"

"I'm serious, I'm going to miss the train!" Potter exclaimed in the tone of a petulant child, holding his ice cream out.

"Oh yes, quite." The old man tapped the cone with his wand, and his grandson (great-grandson? great-great-grandson?) tucked it into his pocket. Severus wished he'd said the incantation aloud so he could preserve his own ice cream, but considering he was a Potter, it was no wonder he was useless.

As the Potters left, the elder hobbling along with his intricately carved dragon bone cane, James shot Severus a dirty look, and Severus returned it with interest. When he was sure the pair had gone, Severus took one last lick of his disgustingly delicious, tongue-tingling, strawberry peanut butter jelly slug nut monstrosity, and tipped the rest into the rubbish bin on the way out. It hadn't done much to improve his dark mood, and it would be a travesty if Potter found an open car and he didn't.

The Hogwarts Express was packed full when Severus arrived, but he managed to locate Sirius amongst the crowd. He and Regulus were both wearing brand new robes, each of which probably cost more than all the contents of Severus's trunk combined. It made Severus angry, and if he could've, he'd've ripped his own robes off and thrown them at Sirius's feet.

Sirius didn't notice though, as he was always oblivious to everyone's problems but his own. He threw his arms around Severus and made a huge scene in the middle of the corridor, welcoming Severus back as though a long lost lover. Severus heeled him sharply in the toe, putting a nice dent in his expensive new shoes.

Sirius kicked a couple of second-year Ravenclaws out of a compartment, not because there were no empty cars, but because it was terribly authoritarian and cruel. As usual, it made Severus feel better, and they settled in to talk about their summers. Regulus sat by the window, unusually quiet, and watched the waving onlookers disappear as the train pulled out of the station.

"Don't you have any friends?" Sirius asked his brother.

"Shut up," Regulus told him petulantly. "I hate school."

"Don't mind him," Sirius told Severus with a dismissive wave in the second year's direction. "He's still sore I got him in trouble with Mum."

"I am not! And I didn't get in trouble. Everyone knew it was you who did it. I don't even know half those words, and even if I did, I certainly wouldn't teach them to our game pieces!" Regulus huffed.

To Severus's questioning look, Sirius replied, "I taught our wizard chess set some prime phrases à la Lucius Malfoy and blamed it on Baby Black. You should've heard Mum screaming!"

"Don't call me that!" Regulus shouted.

Sirius ignored him and made a rather detailed list of the "prime phrases" he'd taught his chess pieces. It was suitably impressive. "I've also got this really incredible project to show you, but it's secret, so I can't do it here. You know the ban on using magic if you're underage? I think it's bullocks. Did you just get those robes? They're awful. I mean, really, really bad."

Severus rolled his eyes. Who cared about robes? He was so past that. All he cared about was being back at Hogwarts, where he belonged. "Does this project have something to do with the destruction of the House of Gryffindor? I saw Potter in Diagon Alley earlier."

Sirius's eyes widened. "When? Today?"

Severus nodded. "He was with his grandfather or… great-grandfather maybe, hideously ancient in any case, getting chocolate ice cream and whining like a two year old about his new broom."

"I'm never eating chocolate ice cream again," Sirius declared. "What kind of broom does he have?"

"Hadn't got it yet. Just blubbering about having to go pick it up, and how he was going to be late for the Express if they didn't leave straight away," he said. "Quite pathetic. You'd've enjoyed it."

Sirius grinned wickedly. He opened his mouth to say something fittingly rude when he made a loud and spontaneous hoot of triumph and jerked the compartment door open.

There was a yell of shock and a loud thud, and Severus bolted up out of his seat. James Potter was sprawled face-down on the corridor floor, his robes up around his head, and his ice cream cone crushed into the carpet. Lupin and Pettigrew stood behind him gaping helplessly as their precious leader pulled himself up off the floor. Potter's glasses were bent and sitting cockeyed on his nose.

"Have a nice trip last fall?" Sirius asked him, hanging out of the doorway and waggling the foot he'd just stuck out to trip him with.

Potter looked murderous.

"Oh, did little Potty drop his ickle ice cream? Poor Jamesy-kins! Have to have grampsy buy him a new one, hm?" Sirius cooed.

"Shut up," Potter said, drawing his wand.

"Now now," Sirius cajoled, waving his wand as a nursemaid would a rebuking finger, "what would grand pappy think if he saw? Such anger, Potty-kins! Grampy will give you a spanking!"

Potter levelled his wand with Sirius's chest. "I'll make you pay for that, you--"

Sirius's wand pointed back. "Oh, is Grampy-kins too old and weak for spankings now? On his last legs, is he? Buying his sweet Jamesy-James a new broomy-woomy with his last breath?"

"I'll kill you!" Potter raged, "I'll fucking KILL you!"

"I'd like to see you TRY!" Sirius spat back.

"Stop! Stop, both of you!" Lupin's voice called. Hanging out of the doorway, it was hard for Severus to catch everything that was going on along the narrow corridor, but he now saw the boy pushing his way past a frightened-looking Pettigrew. "I cannot allow this to occur!"

Sirius snorted, parroting back Lupin's words. "What does allowing have to do with it? You going to stop me, you sickly little scaredy-cat? What're you going to do, faint on me?"

Lupin's thin face suddenly went a brilliant shade of crimson, and he spluttered incoherently until James told him furiously to, "show him! Show him your BADGE!"

"He's a prefect!" Regulus's panicked voice said behind Severus. "He'll take all our points!"

Severus's eyes snapped to Lupin's chest, where a shiny new prefect badge hung against his worn robes. Severus swore, having forgotten all about it.

Now that they were in their fifth year, one boy and one girl were chosen from each house and made prefect. Prefects had special responsibilities and could dock points for rule breaking. It was considered a great honour to be given the title, and the first step to becoming Head Boy or Head Girl. Obviously neither he nor Sirius had received the honour, but Remus Lupin had. Great.

"A prefect?" Sirius squawked. "You've got to be kidding me! THAT'S your prefect?"

"Yeah, now leave us alone, or he'll take points!" Pettigrew piped up. "Won't you, Remus?"

"Ah…" Lupin began, quailing. "Well, I…"

"Do it, Moony! He tripped me and ruined my ice cream and bent my glasses and stuck his wand in my face, and I didn't do anything to him!" Potter ordered. "Do it!"

"But I haven't even… I've not yet been to the meeting, I don't know if I should… James, this is really…"

"You can't do it, can you?" Sirius mocked. "I tripped your little friend, stuck my wand in his face, and insulted his dying grandfather, and you can't even do it, can you? You can't even take a single point!"

Potter howled with rage, and Lupin's face, which had faded into a sort of ashen shade, now blossomed with colour once more, and his bottom lip started to tremble.

"Shut up, Sirius," Regulus hissed, "or he might actually do it!"

"No he won't," Sirius declared. "He's a coward!"

"Take that back!" Pettigrew screeched. "That was really mean! James, make him take it back!"

"Remus! Take points!" Potter yelled.

"Coow-ward, coow-ward!" Sirius sing-songed. "The first-ever Gryffindor coow-ward!"

"Fine! Fine, I'll take points!" Lupin said unevenly. Severus couldn't understand why he looked so miserable. If Severus were a prefect and everyone was screaming at him to take points from Gryffindor, even the Gryffindors, he'd sure as hell do it! Lupin really was stupid.

"Do it!" Potter yelled.

"Do it!" Pettigrew begged.

"Do it!" Sirius bellowed.

"Shut UP!" Regulus shrieked.

Lupin's hands were balled at his sides, his eyes pointed at his feet, his entire body trembling. "Five points from Slytherin," he mumbled.

The other two Gryffindors grinned. Potter put his wand away, and Pettigrew patted Lupin on the back, telling him what a good job he'd done as though Lupin was a toddler who'd just learned to use the toilet. Severus could hear Regulus whimpering in the cabin behind him, and he himself was rather aghast. They weren't even to school yet, and Sirius had already lost them five points!

Sirius himself was strangely calm. He pocketed his wand, took a deep breath, and turned his gaze to Lupin. Severus reached into his pocket and put his hand on his own wand, because Sirius had obviously lost his marbles sometime over the summer, possibly from an overdose of secret pureblood Dark Magic, swearing chess pieces, boredom, or a combination thereof.

Sirius shot Severus a thoroughly pleased, lopsided grin which did not bode well. He then turned to Lupin and launched himself at the boy. Severus had his wand out of his pocket and an Impedimenta ready to fly from his tongue just as Sirius jerked Lupin's face forward and planted his lips firmly against the Gryffindor's. The entire corridor froze in shock as Sirius bestowed upon Lupin a loud, smacking kiss.

"Did you SEE that?" Sirius beamed at Severus, shoving the other boy's face away. "I made him take our points! The first ones of the year! And do you know what that means, Severus?"

Severus blinked, wand hand dropping to his side. He thought he might vomit. "No?" he offered.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you, you FREAK OF NATURE!" Potter demanded. Pettigrew was fluttering about Lupin's unmoving form, asking if he needed a cleaning charm for his lips, or a dust bin to be sick in, or some more chocolate to get the taste out. Lupin himself said nothing, the colour so drained from his face that his lips looked blue, staring uncomprehendingly out at nothing.

Sirius roared with laughter.

The Gryffindors left, Potter with a barrage of insults, Pettigrew with an offer of pumpkin pasties, and Lupin with a pinched sound from the back of his throat and much stumbling. Sirius pushed Severus back into their compartment and spelled the door shut. "Tell me you understand what I just did!"

"You just snogged Remus Lupin," Severus said, slumping down onto his seat.

"No no no! I just guaranteed our success! Don't you see?" Sirius straddled Severus's thighs, pulling him forward by his tie. "Remus Lupin won't dare take another point from Slytherin this entire year! I'm a genius!"

Severus carefully extricated his tie from Sirius's grasp. "You forced Lupin to take points and then kissed him, and this means he won't take any more points? What is wrong with you?"

"Did you see his face? He was terrified of me! And if he takes more points, he knows I'll do it again, and his system's too weak to take the shock, so that means he'll leave us alone!"

"Madman," Severus mumbled.

Sirius flopped down beside him, his hands clasped behind his head, a smug grin on his face. "This year, Slytherin shall rule Hogwarts! I am fantastic! I am brilliant! I am GOD!" he declared.

"You're bent," Regulus told him.

"Oh shut up, you brat," Sirius snapped. "I bet you don't even know what that means."

"I do so! And I'm telling Mum!" the boy threatened, crossing his arms menacingly. "Nancy!"

Sirius cast a Silencio on him and flatly refused to take it off until they reached school. When Regulus started crying, Sirius told him to go to sleep, as it was his own fault for being so nasty to his own brother. Eventually, Regulus began sobbing so hard he started to retch, and as Severus didn't fancy him vomiting in their compartment, he told the boy to write out a nice apology letter to his brother, and then he could talk again.

An hour later, Sirius had received a splendid apology, a promise to write Mum and Dad what a helpful, nurturing big brother he was, and Regulus's word never to say anything like that ever again, unless it was about a Gryffindor. Regulus's tears had dried, and he was happily munching on the lapful of liquorice wands and chocolate frogs Sirius had bought him for being such an obliging boy. He fell asleep with candy wrappers at his feet and Famous Wizard Cards gripped in his hand, his head on Sirius's lap.

With the last of their summer stress finally out of their systems, both Sirius and Severus relaxed and settled in for the long ride. Sirius petted Regulus's hair, the silky locks sliding between his rough fingers, and told Severus this was going to be the best year ever.

XXXXX

"I hate the sorting," Sirius groused. "Same old thing, every year. Huge waste of time."

"Well, how do you propose Houses be determined then?" Severus asked. He was unpacking several neatly-balled pairs of socks and setting them in a row along the end of his bed. He'd already unpacked his potions kit, textbooks, and ink, which sat beside the socks on the soft green duvet.

Sirius shrugged. "There's just GOT to be a quicker way than well, trying on clothing. What is this, a fashion show? 'Oh, the Sorting Hat is the in thing this season at Hogwarts, all the stylish first years are wearing it!' Really."

"Every word you say is more inane than the last," Severus sneered. "Why don't you just kill yourself now and save some other poor soul the trouble?"

"Yeah, Black," Aubrey piped up. "You should listen to Snape once in a while."

Sirius threw a shoe at him. "Don't think just because you're wearing that stupid badge we're going to listen to you, you fat-headed prat."

"That's what you think!" Aubrey rubbed his forehead, which now bore a bright red mark, and threw the shoe back. Sirius caught it. "I'm prefect, that means I'm better than you, and you have to do whatever I say!"

Ten seconds later, their new and better prefect was running from the room shrieking. His bogies, flapping their bat wings, were vehemently dive-bombing his face. "Idiot," Severus said, and stole a pair of his socks.

"Hurry up, I want to show you my plan," Sirius told him. He repocketed his wand and began fishing through Aubrey's trunk to see if anything caught his fancy.

"If it involves more snogging, I'm not interested," Severus told him, setting the remaining meagre contents of his trunk on his bed. "I'm scarred, you know. Not even the most potent memory charm could get that sight out of my head."

"No, the snogging was just a side benefit. One-off thing," Sirius informed him, wrinkling up his nose at a pair of Aubrey's pants. "Unless he tries to take more points. You think he will? He tasted like chocolate."

"Remember what I said before about killing yourself?" Severus asked, disgusted.

"So, my plan!" Sirius slammed the lid of Aubrey's chest and bounded to his bed.

Severus rolled his eyes. He didn't quite know what to think when Sirius came back with a huge, smudged piece of parchment that revealed itself, under closer inspection, to be a sprawling map. Clearly though, it was not a map of Hogwarts. "What is it?"

"One hint," Sirius told him, pointing to a wall next to a stairwell. "This is where the elf heads hang."

Merlin, that was his house? It was four stories tall, each spacious level laid out next to each other, with a mammoth hearth and dozens of rooms. A single story looked large enough to hold half a street of homes from Spinner's End. Severus was immediately furious.

"Wait, wait, look what I did!" Sirius grabbed his arm and pulled Severus back, setting a shiny Galleon on top of the parchment. Severus felt his anger ebb when the Galleon immediately started moving, straight through the pencilled-in walls, to a small room in the basement next to the kitchen. There, it vibrated slightly, but stayed put.

"That's Kreacher's room," Sirius told him. "He's our house-elf. The live one. I told him he had to keep the other Galleon on him at all times, so he sewed it into his rags. See? He's snoring."

"What other Galleon?" Severus slid the vibrating gold piece into the entrance hall, only to watch it slide directly back to the kitchen.

Sirius grinned. "The one I enchanted to make this one mirror its movements."

"You can't enchant things over summer, you're only fifteen," Severus pointed out.

"Yeah, I thought for sure I'd be in trouble. I mean, not expelled, since my Dad gave a load of money to the ministry a while back and he'd pull strings, but in definite, Mum-screaming-her-head-off sort of trouble. But nothing happened. You think they didn't notice?" he mused.

"Look, if you're telling me you… you created an exact scale replica of the floor plan of Grimmauld Place and… magically linked the actual three-dimensional space together with a two-dimensional piece of parchment, and then enchanted one coin to mirror another's movements using some sort of tracking spell and an artificial, distance enhanced, minimization… that's not possible," Severus broke off, highly annoyed. "It would've taken at least six spells--"

"Eight," Sirius told him. "Eight spells, all intertwined, and at least a dozen failed ones, and nobody caught me. Am I not terribly clever, Severus? And I'm going to make one for Hogwarts and catch those Gryffin-ninnies and get them expelled. I told you it was a brilliant plan!"

Severus was at a loss for words. For once, Sirius actually HAD done something terribly clever, something even Severus himself wouldn't have attempted, and calling him an idiot like he usually did just wasn't plausible.

"It's good, right?" Sirius asked, as though he needed Severus's approval in order to be properly proud of himself.

Severus should've got angry at Sirius for showing off. Because that's what this was, wasn't it? Showing off? Drawing a map of his huge house, bragging about using magic all summer without being caught, coming up with something completely genius all on his own and then shoving it in Severus's face that Sirius was the clever one? That was what he was doing, wasn't it?

Severus wasn't angry though, not at all. He tried for a moment, but he couldn't even work himself into a proper state of irritation. In fact, the only thing he felt was a strange urge to start sketching diagrams of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "I suppose you'll need help and I should offer my services before you start begging," he told the other boy, but his voice wasn't half as harsh as it should've been.

"I knew you'd love it, I KNEW!" Sirius leaped about the room as though he'd a throng of particularly agitated juvenile fire crabs in his pants. "I was thinking of you the whole time!"

"You are unspeakably bizarre," Severus scolded him, but he had to tip his face behind his hair to hide his smile.

After dinner the next evening, Sirius was busy properly redrawing his map of Hogwarts with a promise not to start on anything important yet, and Severus decided it was his turn to set his own plan in motion.

Over holiday, he'd begun a large notebook containing every potion ingredient he could think of, their specific properties and uses. Along with these compiled notes, Severus had written his thoughts on possible alternate uses and testing methods for each ingredient. He'd categorized these into several different levels of difficulty, the simplest (and cheapest) of which he'd purchased an extra supply and would test immediately. The most unstable brews, which he'd categorized under Will Undoubtedly Blow Up in My Face, he would probably (and luckily) not get to this year.

Before worrying about blowing himself up though, Severus had to locate a suitably private place to do it. If there were other people about, they'd certainly distract him and waste his precious time, not to mention the fact that trying experimental mixtures unsupervised was assuredly breaking any number of school rules and would lead to extensive detentions. He could afford no such interruptions, as his DADA studies were already suffering as it was.

They were reusing textbooks this year in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but as he'd made himself a promise to get a full four hours' sleep last night, he'd only just now finished rereading _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble. The thought that he may have missed something in such an incomplete revision was omnipresent as he made his way up from the dungeons in search of an ideal base for his potions-brewing operation.

It seemed no place was ideal. Every room he came across was occupied or locked or too small or had so many windows, he'd be caught straight off. His frustration grew as he mounted each staircase, nearly kicking one when it decided to move while he was on it, and he could just swear the suits of armour were staring at him, delighting in his misery. Third floor. Fourth floor. Fifth floor…

And before he knew it, he was standing on the seventh floor with all his options exhausted, staring dejectedly at a highly improbable tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to dance the ballet.

To make things even worse, a gaggle of miniature Gryffindors came flying through the corridor gibbering loudly about Peeves in their chirpy little voices. One of them was blind enough to bump into Severus, and audacious enough not to cower at the hateful glare Severus shot him. They had no respect for their elders, the hellish little creatures.

A place to brew potions, a place to brew potions… he thought, sending Barnabas a scathing look. I need a place to brew potions, he thought at the tapestry, and began pacing. But where could he go? He'd checked everyplace, there was nowhere, and he needed to brew potions!

Up and down the corridor he paced, every step seeming to take him farther from what he needed. Glancing at the tapestry mid-stride, he saw a troll fall on its face and thought it might be a sign that his current endeavour was equally ill-fated. Fine. It was fine, he'd go back to his room and insult Sirius's lack of artistic aptitude and come up with something else.

But then there was a door. It was directly across from the trolls in tutus, a large, darkly varnished wooden door, and he knew he couldn't possibly have missed it.

Severus drew his wand. "You were not there before," he told the door. "What are you?"

The new door didn't look particularly ominous, just large, wooden, and distinctly door-like. Severus felt a little silly that it'd startled him, and more than a little silly that he was attempting a conversation with it. "I'll just come in, then," he told it, just to be on the safe side. The knob turned easily in his grasp, and he held his wand in front of him as he swung the door open.

Behind the door, he beheld the most perfect potions laboratory imaginable.

Directly in front of him stood a large, white marble topped table, already set with a standard size 2 cauldron and cutting board. Behind the table was a wall of glass-doored cabinets, filled with more ingredients than an apothecary. Beside these was a large sink, above which hung shelves with extra cauldrons, bowls, and implements. The far right wall was also covered in shelves, stocked with a supply of empty glass jars and bottles, while the left was predominantly taken up by a large, circular window with a desk and chairs below it. It was only after Severus locked the door that he saw the books.

The wall behind him was lined with them, shelves and shelves of glorious, wonderful books of all shapes and sizes. Severus gazed in reverence at the many hundreds of titles, all tailored for the needs of a Potions master. His fingers went immediately to the flaking, gold-leafed spine of _Facientibus Difficilissimis Potientibus_, and he was half afraid it would dissolve before him, a clever illusion bent on the utter ruination of his tenuously-held sanity.

When he touched it though, his fingers met with the familiar feel of crumbling leather, and when he opened it, he knew that even his bibliophilic mind couldn't have come up with this much intricate and indecipherable Latin. He could've wept.

Instead, he tested exactly seventeen different methods of skinning, cutting, and boiling shrivelfigs.

He didn't tell Sirius about his room.

It was too new, too special, and too uncertain, and Sirius definitely fit into the category of Unnecessary Distractions. Severus was pleased with this decision, as when he returned to the laboratory the next afternoon, he nearly had a breakdown because the door was no longer there. It took Severus almost an hour to get the door to appear again, and even then he couldn't say how exactly he'd managed it.

By the second week, he'd found that the best way to conjure the door was to close his eyes in front of Barnabas and his galumphing trolls and walk up and down the corridor three times, all the while repeating in his head, "I need a place to brew potions" over and over. Doing this gave Severus the distinct impression he was going slowly insane, but at least it was a fairly pleasant, mouldering-book-filled insanity.

The first several weeks of fifth year classes dragged horribly, with all the professors prattling on about OWLs and assigning disgusting amounts of tremendously dull homework. Sirius was having difficulties getting the dimensions of his map to match those of Hogwarts, and he developed the habit of yanking the book Severus was reading from his hands, screaming profanities, and then tucking the book neatly back into place. He often followed up with a smile and a pat on the head, sometimes leaving biscuits. As acknowledging his roommate's antics only made him act out even worse, Severus generally ignored this.

By the end of September, Severus was walking around Hogwarts with an enchanted Galleon in the pocket of his itchy and hideous robes, and Sirius was kicking walls.

"What the bloody HELL is wrong with this fucking map?" Sirius demanded, throwing it to the ground. "The walls are all wrong!"

"If they're wrong, then you spelled them wrong," Severus told him. He fingered the coin, which was smooth and warm from his body heat. He imagined one day having a whole pocket full of them, shiny golden coins that could buy you anything you'd ever dreamt of. Especially comfortable robes. "How can they be wrong? Does kicking them help?"

"Yes!" Sirius declared. "Kicking them does help! And I didn't spell them wrong, I just can't get the spells to synch! Instead of putting you next to the wall, it says you're IN it, and Severus you are NOT IN A WALL!"

"Is there a chance I am and you just haven't noticed?" he asked.

"I fucking hate Gryffindors." Sirius kicked the wall again for good measure. "Ouch, damn it that hurts! James Potter, you will pay for this!"

Despite Sirius's efforts to drive him to distraction through tirade-seasoned cartography, Severus kept with his own plan and was the first to see results.

It began when Professor Slughorn assigned them the Draught of Peace in Potions. Severus had noted earlier in his textbook that if he added the powdered moonstone before the hellebore and stirred clockwise instead of counter clockwise twelve times, the potion would turn out much quicker. He made his changes unnoticed, with Sirius working beside him in his own cauldron humming discordantly under his breath.

"Shut up," Severus told him after twenty minutes.

"What?" Sirius asked.

"You're humming. Shut up."

Sirius hummed louder, and Severus knew he'd have to hex him after class.

"Hey, would you mind stopping that, Black?" a voice from the front row of tables asked. "Some people can't concentrate with all that racket." It was James Potter, and maybe he'd save Severus the trouble. After all, he had better things to do these days than throw hexes around.

"Yeah, well some people don't care who can concentrate," Sirius retorted. He flicked what appeared to be a rat spleen at Potter.

"Professor!" Potter called loudly. "Black's throwing things at me. Again!"

"I did not!" Sirius insisted, a look of bewildered innocence on his face. "I don't throw things, Professor! Never!"

"I saw him!" said Pettigrew, who hadn't been paying the least bit of attention. "He threw things!"

"Let us draw our attention back to the matter at hand, gentlemen," Slughorn told him, looking cautiously down into a cauldron behind them. "I commend your efforts, but more stirring is not necessarily better stirring, Miss Hobson. Do try to remember that."

Sirius and Potter exchanged glares, and Sirius pegged him in the back of the head with something small and black when he turned back to his cauldron. Potter started swearing, and Evans cuffed him. "Stop acting like a five year old, James!"

"He started it!" James insisted, a mortified blush rising in his cheeks as he turned and mouthed to Sirius, "You're dead!"

"Professor," Severus said, finding the conversation ironic considering the potion they were brewing. Maybe they should all take a sip after class. "I'm finished."

"Finished, Mr Snape? Well, surely not yet… perhaps you've forgotten the rat spleen. The colour would be the same of course, so it would give the false notion of being properly finished, but it would require much less… well, I do say, you've finished it!" Professor Slughorn was regarding his cauldron with undisguised pleasure.

Severus smirked when he called the entire class's attention to it, praising Severus for his speed and attention to detail, and awarded Slytherin twenty points. Sirius winked and surreptitiously tossed something into Lupin's cauldron. Evans, whose moonstone was still sitting on her table, looked rather perplexed. She straightened her prefect badge, which incidentally wasn't crooked, and went back to chopping her daisy roots.

Severus felt like a god.

"That was amazing," Sirius told Severus as they were packing up to leave.

"It wasn't a big deal," he replied with a smug sniff. "I just mixed things a little differently. If you hold off on the moonstone for too long--"

"Not your potion, Lupin's! I turned it red, really vicious-looking red, and it looked like it wanted to eat his hand! A man-eating peace potion, Severus! I should patent it, I'd make a mint!"

"You're becoming obsessed with Remus Lupin, I swear," Severus told him, annoyed.

"With jumpers like his, how can you blame me? Did you see the one he was wearing today? Hole in the sleeve. Means he's going to be sick again soon. We must get that map working, Severus. You know how much I hate Potter, but I really think the key to all this is--"

"Black." Remus Lupin was standing just out side the door, and Severus nearly ran into him when he stepped out. "I'd like to have a word with you."

Sirius smiled evilly and leaned back against the dungeon wall. "A word, is it?"

Lupin swallowed, looking cold and suddenly nervous. "Yes. About… about today. In class. When you… sabotaging other people's potions is, you shouldn't do it. I'm not talking about my potion, though you shouldn't have done that either, but James… I hate Potions, but he doesn't, so please, if you could just… I'm not a coward. I'm not, and I'm, I'm standing up. I'm saying you shouldn't do it anymore, Black."

"I'm on to you, Lupin," Sirius told him.

Lupin blinked. "…what?"

"Oh, I know all about your little secret. How you and the others sneak out in that cloak every month to have your little fun. You stay out all night and come back with dirty shoes and ripped jumpers and break about a dozen school rules, and it gets you so sick you end up in the infirmary. Yeah, I know exactly what you're up to," Sirius smirked.

Lupin's face grew paler and paler, his bottom lip beginning to tremble.

Sirius took this as a sign he was on the right track. "It's only a matter of time before I turn you in," he told the frightened boy, "so if you have any last words… tear-filled pleas… extravagant bribes… now would be the time."

Lupin's jaw worked wordlessly, his fingers grasping at the stretched-out sleeves of his pathetic, pill-balled jumper. "You don't know anything," he whispered. "You couldn't…"

"You're right!" Sirius beamed, throwing his arms open wide. "Total bullocks. I'm just being an arse!"

"He is an arse," Severus agreed. "You should take points for that."

Lupin's face was contorting between so many different emotions, it seemed unsure as to which colour it should choose. No doubt he'd not been able to easily put his last points reduction from his mind and had no wish to repeat it. "No, I don't think that will be…"

"Oh, come on," Sirius taunted, picking up on Severus's idea, "you know you want to. I threw a slug in your Draught of Peace. I lied to you. I tried blackmailing you! Come on, take a point!"

"Sirius loves it when you take house points. Turns him on something incredible. He was in the toilet hours after the last time. Nearly drove us insane." He leaned closer to the Gryffindor. "You should've HEARD."

"He… he was not," Lupin murmured, his face having decided upon beet red.

Severus liked this game.

"No, it's true," Sirius said quietly. "I'm mad for pasty, bookish blokes with dreadful wardrobes. Why do you think I keep Snape around? Come on, just one point, Moony. Please?"

"Don't-- don't call me that," Lupin whispered. Sirius had now backed him against the wall of the corridor. A trio of Hufflepuff girls hurried past, their hands to their mouths, but neither boy noticed. Severus shot them a dirty look.

"Your choice, Moony. Either take a point or," Sirius leaned in so that their lips were only inches apart, "tell me what you three are up to. All I need to know is…"

His voice dropped below hearing, Lupin cringed, and suddenly this wasn't so much fun anymore. Remus Lupin was sick and weak and obviously entirely unable to defend himself, and that wasn't the sort of person you picked on. Sure, it was fine to frighten unmannered first years a bit, or taunt your spoiled baby brother, or hex your new prefect when he was being particularly exasperating… but there were rules to this sort of thing.

There were.

Honest.

When it came to instilling absolute abject terror, it was best to save it for people who could benefit from it, like Potter. It was wasted on powerless, sickly nitwits with shabby jumpers who offered their mortal enemies apples in the infirmary.

"Sirius, he's not worth it," Severus told him, turning his back. "He just wants you to slip him some tongue, since it's the only way he'll ever get any. Come on, let's go work on your project."

Sirius grunted, and Severus was sure he was about to follow, when Lupin's small yet clear voice said, "A point from Slytherin."

He was mad, Severus thought. Remus Lupin was absolutely mad. He was mad, and Severus was never sticking up for anyone ever again because sticking up for people cost you house points.

Sirius knew when his bluff was being called, and he laughed, turning away from the Gryffindor. "A point! Well, I guess that leaves us with only nineteen for the day after Severus's work in Potions. Maybe you're not so spineless after all, Moony! I do like that name. Moony. Moooooony! Ha! Isn't that funny, Severus?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Hilarious. Let's go."

Remus Lupin didn't seem to think it was hilarious either. He was still standing up against the corridor wall with his face in his hands.

"I almost had him, Snape! Why'd you have to give him hope of survival like that?" Sirius groused as they faced the blank wall that was the entry to the Slytherin dormitory. "What was the password again? Oh yeah, Snitchnipping. I can't wait for Quidditch to start up, can you?"

"Yes, Slytherin shall vanquish," Severus waved his hand dismissively as they entered, "but you know if that sickly creature had keeled over and died, it would've been your fault. And since I was there, I'd've been blamed too, and my father did not make large monetary gifts to the Ministry that would prevent my expulsion. Think of these things, Black."

"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch. It was just a joke, and a pretty damned good one at that. I thought for sure he'd shit himself. But all I want to think of now is my map," Sirius told him. "It's been nearly a month, and this time I'm going to catch them, I don't care what it takes. I'll stay up all night if I have to!"

Severus sighed, surveyed the occupants of the common room with a disgusted glare, and braced himself for a long, aggravating night.

He was not disappointed.

TBC


	4. ANIMAGI AND LILY EVANS'S DARK MAGIC

**Notes: **As far as I know, the Prewett brothers are not twins, but Sirius doesn't know this (nor does he care, apparently).

CHAPTER 4: ANIMAGI AND LILY EVANS'S DARK MAGIC

"Death Eater? What does that mean?" Severus demanded. "It's stupid. How do you eat death? Doesn't death eat you? How did they come up with a name like that?"

Sirius shrugged. "How would I know. You're the literate one."

"LiteRARY," Severus corrected, though sometimes he wondered. "And shouldn't you know these things if you're going to become one?"

"I never said I was becoming one, I'm just thinking about it." Sirius flopped onto his back beside Severus, wiggling snugly into the duvet. It was becoming increasingly harder to do, as Severus and Sirius were constantly growing, whilst Severus's bed was decidedly not. "I wish you'd come with me one of these times, and if you joined, then I would. I don't see why you won't, it's everything Slytherin stands for: purebloods, Dark Arts, and uninhibited social climbing. And the entertainment's not bad either."

"Not interested," Severus told him, feeling as though he'd said it a million times already. "And if you really cared about what I wanted, you'd stop bothering me when I'm--"

"… illustrates that Grindelwald's 1945 defeat at the hands of Albus Dumbledore brought about an era of unprecedented prosperity and peace for the entirety of Wizarding Europe, evidenced specifically by the drastic economic growth reflected throughout the middle and lower classes and the newfound acceptance in the Wizarding community for those of mixed blood, which further promoted marriages to the Muggle-born and deemphasized the need for purity of bloodlines, a factor which was highly emphasized by Grindelwald throughout his campaigns in Germany, Latvia, and…" Sirius turned the book sideways. "Does this sentence ever end?"

"Give it back, Sirius. Now."

"No, really. I think this book is just one big sentence, it never stops until the very last page. That way, you can never put it down, because how can you stop reading in the middle of a sentence? _Modern Magical History_," he read from the cover. He held it out over the floor when Severus made a lunge for it. "It's a ruse Severus. It pulls you in, and then you can't stop, no matter how much you want to do. You just keep reading and reading and reading until you eventually die, your skin all shrivelled and eyes sunken into your skull--"

"There are books like that, Black, but this is not one of them. It is a harmless, highly educational text on the history of our society without which my education would be woefully incomplete, and it is essential that you give it back. Now."

"Well, it's essential to MY education that you come with me to Malfoy Manor for the next meeting. It's a really big thing for me, deciding if I want to, you know, give up my personal principles and do this, and I need your help. You're the only one I trust!"

Severus winced as Sirius shut the book, losing his page in the process. Why oh why was his life such unrelenting misery? "I'm not going to become a Death Eater, so I don't see the point. I hate politics. And you have no 'personal principles.' Now are you giving me back the book, or do you WANT me to hex your fingers off?"

"Oh, you're such a tease, Snape. Always getting my hopes up saying you'll hex my fingers off, but do I ever see it?" He sighed dramatically. "And I can't believe you're turning down this much Dark Arts exposure. One look in Lucius's sitting room, and you'd need a cold shower!"

"Look, I don't even know why you're considering this. Wouldn't it make your parents happy?" The book was now hanging listlessly from Sirius's fingers, its spine dragging on the ground, and Severus set about determining a sufficiently clever plan to recover it. It was difficult whilst contemplating the assuredly cold-shower-worthy wonders that inhabited Lucius Malfoy's sitting room. Wonders for the eyes of purebloods, which would forever remain a mystery to him.

Sirius looked pensive. "Well, yeah. I mean they'd be right chuffed, and I really do hate doing anything they approve of, but… But I've… I've been thinking, Severus. And don't ask if I've hurt myself, that one's really not funny anymore. If it ever was. You're really not a funny person."

"Do you have a point, or did you lose it in all the thinking," Severus asked, his eyes still glued to the dangling book.

"See what I mean? Not funny." Sirius frowned. "It's just… I think sometimes of how nice it would be to have my family, say… not loathe me."

"Good luck with that."

"No, really. If I keep up like this… they disowned my cousin Andromeda. I told you that, right? She was always my favourite cousin, used to do this trick where she stuck her wand in one ear and pulled it out the other. Brilliant girl. Ran off with this Muggle bloke, and no one ever spoke her name again. Burned her right off the tapestry, like she never existed. I don't want to not exist, Severus," his brow furrowed. "What would I do with all my things?"

"I'd mind them for you," Severus reassured him.

The other boy scowled. "You'd sell my racing broom and buy Dark Arts books. Or maybe Potions, you've really been getting into them lately, old Sluggy's beside himself. You think if I became one of these Death Eater… thingees… they'd be proud?"

"I don't like Potions, I just happen to be exceptionally clever at it, and didn't one of your aunts try to force a Bill through the Ministry to legalize Muggle-hunting? Not like I'm in love with Muggles or anything, but do you really want to be part of something like that?"

"Don't be dense, of course not. But sometimes I just want to be part of, of something. You know? Feel like…" he waved _Modern Magical History_ above his head, "like I belong."

"Don't worry, you belong here," Severus told him in all truth, and made a lunge for his book.

When Stebbins walked in with a half-eaten sandwich in his hands, Severus's fingers were scrabbling at the cover, and Sirius's fist was knotted and yanking in his hair. Severus braced his legs against one of Sirius's thighs to keep himself from slipping sideways off the bed and smacked his palm against Sirius's face. "Fight!" Stebbins yelled merrily, dropping the sandwich. "Fight!"

Severus swore when Aubrey came in, thinking the fun over. To his relief, their prefect had a much better plan.

"And with that, the Tenth Annual Snape-Black Games have begun, and just look at them go, folks!" he announced through cupped hands. "Oh, and that was a foul, flagrant blurting if I've ever seen it, but the referee's motioning to continue! And it's Snape's right hand to Black's ear, the snitch is still nowhere in sight, and Black's knee comes up against-- oh, that's going to leave a mark, ladies and gentlemen!"

Stebbins chortled. "Three sickles on Snape!" he said, and Severus winced as Sirius kneed him in the stomach again.

The match was unfortunately short-lived, as Sirius managed to twist Severus onto his back but smacked his own nose on the bedpost in the process. A dark-eyed sixth-year with highly polished shoes who'd come running to witness the spectacle offered a healing spell, but Sirius held his tie firmly to his nose and waved her away, as he didn't want to get blood all over her. From the way she was looking at him, Severus thought she probably wouldn't mind having Sirius's blood (or anything else) all over her, but it was hardly his place to say so.

Sorting cautiously through various unnameable and ghastly items in Sirius's messy drawers, Severus managed to find a few handkerchiefs. He handed them to his roommate, careful to avoid direct contact, as Slytherin ties were not, apparently, made of the most absorbent of materials. He then ordered everyone else out of the room, picked _Modern Magical History_ up off the floor, and settled comfortably back into his bed.

"We're goid do wid agains Gryffiddor do borrow, Sdape," Sirius told him, patting his back with the hand he wasn't holding to his nose. "And I'b goid do catch theb with by bap."

"Don't touch me," Severus replied, flipping through to find the correct page. "You'll bleed on my robes."

Sirius snorted indelicately in laughter, and Severus wiped the spatters from his face. "I really mead whad I said earlier, aboud by fabily," the other boy told him, ignoring the disdainful look thrown his way. "I don'd wand do be the ah, wide sheep or sobethig. I thig I bight try… nex tibe I'b hobe… jus try to behave byself, you dow?"

"I'm sure I've no idea what you're saying," Severus said, "and I mean that in every sense of the phrase."

Sirius sighed loudly. "Is thad whad your fabily's like? You never talk aboud theb… do they yell ad you all the tibe and push you indo doig thigs you dow are wrog?"

"No," he said quietly. "No, they don't."

"Thed why do you hade theb so buch?" Sirius asked.

"If you must know, Black, it's because they… well, in fact, they…" Severus sighed, wondering why he was talking about this at all, and with Sirius Black, of all people. "They don't do anything to me at all. Nothing. And I don't hate them, I mean, not them specifically. It's… other things as well."

"I don geddid," Sirius sniffed.

"Sirius, my parents…" The letters on page 732 blurred together, and Severus had to blink and clear his throat before he could continue. It was a bad idea, he knew it was a bad idea before he opened his mouth, yet he couldn't help himself. He dipped his face toward his book, so close he could feel his breath hitting it, and whispered the three hateful words.

Sirius snorted. "I wish by fabily'd igdore be!" His voice was brash, but his palm was soft and warm on Severus's shoulder. He thought he heard Sirius murmur something comforting, but with the clogged nose, it was all just so much snuffling. Which was fine, because someone like Sirius couldn't possibly understand anyway. Sirius never understood anything.

Severus sighed and suddenly felt very tired and not at all in the mood for reading about pure-blood/Muggle intermarriages. His ribs smarted where Sirius had kneed them. "Yes, I wish they would too. Now go to the infirmary before you bleed to death, you fool."

Severus didn't make it to dinner that night, and the fried sausages Sirius smuggled him back gave him a terrible stomach ache. He woke the next morning with cramps and absolutely no desire to trek to the pitch, even though he did really want to see the game. When he told Sirius he was feeling unwell and thought he'd maybe just stay in and read, he nearly sent the boy into a panic. As a panicked Sirius was about as easily-managed as an Erumpent in rut, Severus eventually recanted under the condition that since he was sick, if Slytherin lost, there were to be no arguments.

Though walking up the stairs did nothing to calm Severus's digestive system, a large plate especially runny eggs did. That is, until the Gryffindor Quidditch team came in.

For some unknown reason, all the players had come to breakfast in their uniforms. It was as though the Great Hall had been suddenly swept by a ghastly wave of red, gold, and stupidity. James Potter led the entourage, waving and making idiotic faces.

"Well, MY breakfast is now ruined!" Sirius declared, slamming his fork down. His plate was empty.

Severus poked forlornly at his eggs. There was never a moment's peace in this school. If it wasn't Sirius making him sick on spoilt sausages, it was the Gryffindors flaunting their ignorance like some sort of badge. Hogwarts would be such a nice place if it just didn't have so many damned students!

As though taking the Gryffindors as their cue, several dozen owls suddenly flew into the hall, swooping down on the four long, student-filled tables.

Sirius cursed as a tawny flew toward him. "It's Scruggles again. Blasted owl. My godforsaken family's owled me another godforsaken letter! Is there no peace in this world, Snape?"

Severus sighed and set about stirring his eggs into an unrecognizable mush. "I thought its name was Scriggly," he moped.

"Scriggly? Whyever would I call it that, that's a horrible name." Sirius swore impressively as he perused the letter.

"That hideous, smelly owl ate my toad, I think I know what its name is," Severus insisted. His eggs looked like vomit.

"Fine, who cares what its name is anyway?" Sirius frowned forcefully down at the parchment. "It's a stupid owl. I could call it The Grand Nutcracker Princess Twinkletoes for all it matters."

Potter was laughing loudly over at the Gryffindor table, and Severus's stomach made a funny noise.

"Right," Sirius smacked the letter with the back of his hand, "so Bella's been elected Treasurer of the Pure-Blood Ladies' Neighbourhood Anti-Muggle Coalition and Bridge Club… Cissy's wedding's coming up this summer and she says I'm such a disgrace I should count myself lucky even being invited… Father says I need to learn to behave myself like Regulus or be disinherited… oh! And there's a sweet young pure-blood girl from Durmstrang wants to meet me-- and by sweet, Mother means ugly, fat, and incapable of carrying on a halfway-intelligent conversation because her head is filled with Bulgarian rocks. Merlin, I hate my family! Mental, the whole lot!"

"Why haven't you got them expelled yet?" Severus demanded, gesturing toward Potter and swallowing the disgusting taste that was working its way up from his stomach. "I hate them. I want them dead, every last one of their pathetic, worthless persons, their heads lopped cleanly from their bodies, shrunken, and hanging from my bedstead. What good are you if you can't even get a few miserable Gryffindors expelled? No wonder your family all hate you!"

Someone on the other side of the table told him to quiet down, and Sirius looked abashed for a good half-second. "Alright," he said, grinning widely. "Alright. Now's as good a time as any, come on!"

Severus was then being yanked unceremoniously from his seat by a strong hand around his upper arm. "Nice robes, Potter!" Sirius yelled, dragging Severus across the hall. "Did your sweet doting grandfather buy them for you?"

"Shut up!" Potter yelled back. "Don't you talk about him like that!"

"Oh, I forgot he's old and sickly and not likely to survive the winter! However could I have been so thoughtless? Do you need a hug?" Sirius's raucous laughter hurt his head, and Severus's stomach lurched sickeningly. He tried to peel Sirius's fingers from his robes, but his grip was too tight.

"If you think you're going to get away with-- OUCH! Fuck! What did you--" And then Potter laughed, and his voice was nauseatingly close. "Going to toss rubies at me next, Black? Emeralds, maybe? Think you're so rich you can afford to throw it away?"

Sirius smacked him hard on the back, and Severus's stomach squelched, bile burning his throat. "Oh, I thought maybe you could use it to buy some decent robes. Those things are an eyesore! What do you think, Snape?"

His eyes followed the sound of the invectives falling from Potter's mouth, settling on the sickeningly atrocious, hideously stupid Quidditch robes.

And then he promptly threw up all over them.

"Oh, disgusting, maggoty-- Merlin that's REPULSIVE! Gyuh, it's all over me! I'm going to KILL YOU, Snape! Ugh!"

Potter continued to howl threats whilst Sirius laughed his head off, hand rubbing at the back of Severus's neck. "That's what you get, you snotty little prick, serves you right!"

"What is wrong with you two? Take him to Madam Pomfrey!" an insistent yet pretty voice said from the Gryffindor table. "Can't you see he's sick?"

"Well hello, Evans. Lovely morning, isn't it? Coming to the match?" Potter countered.

"Oh, stay away from me, James, you've got vomit all over yourself!"

Severus spat the foul taste from his mouth, wishing everyone would just shut up. All this carrying-on was irksome and made him feel like vomiting again.

In the end, Sirius walked him to the infirmary, where he was put to bed for several hours and force-fed healing potions which tasted as though they'd been fermented for several weeks in the Gamekeeper's shoes. His dorm mate put on a show of being reluctant to leave, but he knew the other boy wouldn't miss Gryffindor versus Slytherin for all the sick Severuses in the world. Severus himself listened to the announcer's distant play-by-play from his bed, but he thought it wasn't half as good as Aubrey's had been last night.

The crushing defeat that ensued left Sirius in a terrifically foul mood, and he raged about the dungeon for hours afterward tipping over chairs and setting terrified first years' homework on fire. His only consolation was that Potter, beyond smelling like rotten eggs all day, had kept the enchanted Galleon he'd thrown at him.

"I told him after the match I wanted it back, as my dying Uncle Ignatius had given it to me, and he'd no right to keep it," Sirius explained, kicking the leg of Severus's chair. "I'm positive he won't let the thing out of his sight now. Probably sew it into his robes like Kreacher."

"Stop that, it's making me sick," Severus told him from behind the pages of _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_, swatting at his foot. He prayed Potter was that stupid. "Is your Uncle Ignatius really dying?"

Sirius scowled but stopped kicking. "Oh, if only! Even Regulus hates him. Always offering us chocolates, wanting us to sit on his lap, the great ponce. And then there's the issue of his nephews from the Prewett side, those twins. Hasn't any children of his own, and you can GUESS why that is, so he parades those two around as though he'd had something to do with them. Hateful creatures. Gryffindors. Hexed the bullocks off Father's hunting dog when I was eight, and he had to have the poor thing put down."

"You've got Gryffindors in your family?" Severus sneered. "How… loathsome."

"Well, don't worry yourself over Gryffin-pillocks anymore. I'm getting Potter and his little band expelled, and then you shall be rid of them forever," Sirius proclaimed with an evil grin. "Tonight, Severus! Or… maybe next week. Or the week after, if that's when they go out. Sometime soon though, I swear it on my Uncle Ignatius's grave!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "You can't swear on his grave if he's not dead yet, you imbecile."

"Watch me!" Sirius declared with a flourish, and strode purposefully out of the room.

Aside from his newfound fascination in exploding random objects just to see what sort of noise they'd make, it wasn't until the twenty-ninth that anything Sirius did bore watching of any kind. It was a cold night, and the air foretold of snowfall when he stuffed his map into his pocket and informed Severus with a purposeful glance that he was going out. Severus, warm and cosy by the common room's fire, didn't bother looking up from the essay he was writing for Ancient Runes but told him to wear a cloak so he wouldn't freeze.

He didn't.

Severus was a bit uneasy when he slid between his covers that night with a lumos and a library copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_? by Kennilworthy Whisp, and Sirius had yet to return. Of course, a good deal of that unease was due to the fact that he was reading something so academically unsound when he should be revising for DADA or studying Potions (or even Transfiguration, which he was nearly failing), but the thing about Sirius was a bit unnerving as well. After all, the Gryffindors had an invisibility cloak at their disposal for sneaking about late at night, while Sirius was equipped only with his own wits, and that was… well, it surely wasn't promising.

When Severus was awoken at some ungodly hour of the night by a strange bumping noise, his book was pressed uncomfortably against his face, the pages cutting into the bridge of his nose. "Severus!" a voice hissed.

He snorted loudly, rubbing the heel of his palm against his indented nose, tossed his book aside, and buried his head under the covers.

"I know you're awake, you've stopped snoring," Sirius whispered loudly.

"Go away, I hate you," Severus mumbled back. He heard the heavy fabric of his curtains rustle, and he burrowed under his pillow.

"I found them," Sirius whispered, grabbing at him though the bedcovers. "I found them and you'll never BELIEVE what they're doing!"

"Geroff," Severus said into his pillow. He pulled his covers tightly around him to keep Sirius out, all the while knowing how futile it was. Sirius, though he was shorter and sturdier than Severus, had the squirmiest boy-body wizardkind had ever produced. Soon there was a robe-clad thigh thrown across his hips, and Severus was shivering against the feel of cold hands on his thin nightshirt.

"I found them, Severus. I found them, and-- it's terribly illegal. What they're doing, it's terribly, horribly illegal, and-- budge over, I'm going to fall off!-- and if anyone knew, they'd all be thrown in AZKABAN."

His mind still felt all muzzy from sleep, so Sirius's conspiratorially whispered message escaped him. "Don't touch me, you're freezing, where have you been?" he mumbled, slapping uncoordinatedly at the freezing appendages trying to leech away his body heat.

"I blackmailed them. Can you believe my genius! I blackmailed the Gryffindors! I am brilliant! I'm--" a cough from across the room silenced Sirius, and his head jerked up as though he were a Crup that'd scented something on the breeze.

"Sirius," Severus started.

"Shh! Shhhhh!" Sirius hissed, his hands waving frantically above Severus's mouth. "It's a secret, they can't know!"

"Know what?" Severus asked rather loudly, and the cold hands clapped down over his lips. He tried to pry them off and failed, so he settled for licking Sirius's palm. It was salty tasting but not altogether unpleasant.

Sirius made a noise in the back of his throat and jerked his hands away. He shoved Severus over and threw himself belly-down by his side. "Fuck," he murmured, an odd look on his face.

"I hate you," Severus told him again, spitting out a strand of hair from his mouth and not caring to think of whom it belonged to. He pulled his blanket up to his chin but knew he wouldn't get back to sleep so easily. Oh, misery. Misery and woe.

"It's a secret," Sirius whispered after clearing his throat. "I promised not to tell even you, but as soon as I learn it, it won't matter, and I'll teach you. It's really, really genius!"

Severus's head started to hurt. "You're not making any sense at all. What's genius?"

"What those Gryffindors are doing! I caught them at it, and it's illegal, and I blackmailed them into teaching me so I wouldn't have them arrested!" He was leaning over Severus again, the dungeon-dimmed light of the full moon shining off his wide-open eyes.

"The Gryffindors are doing something both genius and illegal, and you blackmailed them into teaching you. That's what you're telling me?" Severus queried, making sure to keep his voice down. "Have you been dropped on your head? Other than as an infant?"

"No, I swear! I followed them outside with the map to, well, I can't say where, but I followed them, and I caught them at it! It was hard because the stupid Galleon kept falling off and it's bloody freezing outside, and there were Potter and Pettigrew-- Lupin's ill again, he wasn't there and Potter said he can't do it anyway-- and I am BRILLIANT, Severus! I'm going to learn it by Christmas and sneak out of the house and roam around London--"

"Learn what?" Severus hissed. "What the bloody hell are you gibbering about?"

"--of course there's no telling what mine will be, it's different for everyone, but even if I had one as pathetic as Pettigrew's that'd still be alright, I don't even care, but that's not possible because I am decidedly NOT pathetic, I am brilliant!"

"Go away, you hateful hellchild," Severus muttered hopelessly.

"Do you think because I'm a Slytherin I might be a, well I can't really say that or you'll figure it out, and I promised not to tell, but I think I might be. It'd be very Slytherin. I'M very Slytherin. Salazar would be proud. Think they'll give me a nickname? I'll give you one too, after I teach you. Something like… Spiderlegs maybe, because you're all gangly, and I can just see you as a huge spider. Bugger, I shouldn't have said that. I'm shutting up now, I swear," he nuzzled into Severus's neck, warm breath whuffing against his skin. "I just had to tell you about it. About my genius and, and manfulness. Didn't mean to wake you or anything."

"Manfulness is not a word," Severus told him, ignoring the rest of his rant. He hated Gryffindors, he hated nicknames, he hated being gangly, and he had no particular fondness for spiders. "It's, the word is virility."

"That sounds like a disease."

Severus made a disgusted noise. He opened his mouth to make a exceedingly rude comment about Sirius's inadequate grasp on the English language, only to find that the other boy had fallen asleep against him.

Yes, his life was misery.

The weeks leading up to Christmas holidays proved little different. Sirius would come crawling back to the dungeons every other night with cold hands and indecipherable tales of Gryffindoric tutelage, so thoroughly knackered that he frequently fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. Severus failed to comprehend this ability. He thought knew what was happening, though.

One day, Severus thought, he'll realize it. He'll realize what he is, and what I am, and then all of this will end.

On the odd occasion when he found himself gazing down at his dorm mate's sleeping form, Sirius's tousled hair framing the graceful lines of his face, delicate lips parted, and soft black lashes splayed against the flushed skin of his cheeks, it was more apparent then ever. The thought made him feel itchy and morbid, and he hated the Gryffindors with renewed vigour for stealing Sirius from him with their captivating illegalities and impressive secret rituals. Sirius himself seemed rather divided as to their benefit.

"Potter I could never stand," Sirius told him one afternoon on their way back from Charms, "even if he does occasionally invent some brilliant mischief. The problem with him is he's the worst sort of spoiled, egotistical brat, just like Regulus. I think that great-grandfather of his buys him anything he ever wants, I know the Potters are nearly rich as the Blacks, and he thinks his overgrown head is the point around which the Earth revolves."

"I'm sorry, I missed everything after you combined 'Potter' and 'brilliant' in the same sentence. Tell me that's your sorry attempt at a joke." Severus sneered, exchanging a cheerfully profane gesture with Rabastan Lestrange as they passed in the corridor.

Sirius shrugged, waving his wand inconspicuously at a tiny Ravenclaw's overstuffed bag, which spontaneously split its seams and spat its contents onto the ground. "Well, even a broken clock's right twice a day."

"Technically," Severus corrected, "that's not true. A stopped clock is right twice a day. A broken one might be just slow enough that its time actually never coincides with--"

"Whatever. He's a git. And that Wormtail-- Pettigrew-- he follows Potter around like he's some sort of hero, laughing and clapping at everything he does. He's like this, this… I don't know the word. What's that word, Severus?"

"Sycophant?" he offered.

"Maybe," Sirius admitted, but sounded unconvinced. "It's nauseating. The only one of them with a whit of sense is Moony, but he has these strange… verbal issues. Stuttering and such, can't seem to get a full sentence in without tripping all over his own tongue. Not so bad with his dorm mates, but he's lucky to string two words together without turning odd colours when he's talking to me. Was he always like that?"

"So you've forgotten about molesting him on the Express?" Severus tripped a scrawny, dark-skinned Gryffindor boy to take his mind off it. He fell against another boy, who yelled "Kinglsey, you klutz!" and stormed off in a temper.

Sirius guffawed. "Nice one. He said he didn't care though, wouldn't hold a grudge. All fun and games, haha. And he's been really helpful with this thing I'm doing, even if he's too jumpery to manage it himself."

Severus fought back his instincts to officially denounce the adjectival usage of the word 'jumper' and asked innocently, "So what was it you were working on?"

"You, Severus Snape, are not half as cunning as you think you are," Sirius proclaimed, and said no more. Severus tried this tactic any number of times, but when it became clear Sirius wasn't about to inform him as to what he was actually doing with the roommate-stealing ninnies, Severus gave up asking.

That didn't mean he stopped wracking his brain to figure it out. Especially when Sirius started shutting the curtains around his bed, something he almost never did. When Severus peeked in, separating the swathes of fabric with his wand to avoid the nasty blisters he'd get if he touched it directly, he found Sirius sitting quietly with his eyes closed, or even more shockingly, reading.

The book, he found with a bit of snooping, was entitled _Unlocking the Gates to Your Inner Self (and Locking Them Up Smartly Behind You)_, which only confused him all the more. A quietly reading, introspective Sirius was a very foreign and very disturbing concept that took Severus several days to wrap his brain around. Such contemplation cut into his study time, and he hexed Sirius occasionally just to let him know what he was doing was Wrong and Uncalled For.

Then, as though all that wasn't irritating enough, Sirius started asking him dozens of odd questions at random and distracting intervals.

"What's your favourite colour?" he asked one morning during the middle of Charms.

"What's your favourite season?" he popped his head into the shower room to demand.

"What's your favourite food?" he hissed into Severus's ear during an Arithmancy exam.

"What's your favourite flower? Music? Animal? If you were a type of cheese, what type would you be? What do you dream of? If McGonagall and Flitwick had a duel to the death, who do you think would win? If giants have such huge brains, why are they so stupid? Where do we go after we die? Could Dumbledore grow potatoes in his beard? What about radishes? If you could have anything in the whole world, what would it be?"

To this last question, posed during an intense and uninterruptible bout of DADA revision, Severus replied, "a moment's bloody peace and quiet!" and hauled an armful of books to the library.

Sirius insisted that he'd have this thing, whatever it was, finished by Christmas. Severus could only hope that was true. Much more of this insanity and he'd do his nut, and with those Gryffindors distracting him, Sirius probably wouldn't even notice.

XXXXX

"I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work."

"I'm sorry, what?" Lily Evans asked him, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Don't pretend you don't know. You think you're clever, but I see through that innocent façade," Severus informed her with a nasty sneer.

Evans sighed. "Honestly, I'm not trying to be rude, but why do I never understand a word that comes out of your mouth?"

Her acting skills were impressive, and Severus raised his chin in defence. "You're a liar and a cheat, and I'm not falling for it, not for an instant. As soon as I start to do something to stand out, you do your best to push me right back in line, and I won't have it. Do you hear me, Evans?"

"WHAT are you talking about?" she demanded, rather rudely given the circumstances. "Why are you saying these things about me? What LINE?"

"Oh, I think you know all too well," he told her. "And you will live to regret what you've done."

What she'd done had started nearly a month ago. He'd been going to his potions room several times a week, more often now that Sirius was always gone, faithless companion that he was, and Severus had made huge headway toward his goals. In fact, he'd nearly finished his fifth year textbook and had already begun annotating next year's.

Although Evans still out-performed him most days, he'd occasionally do something so inventive and brilliant that it made Evans's achievements pale in comparison. Professor Slughorn had called his Strengthening Solution, for example, "the best I've ever seen!" whereas Evans's had only been "ah, very nice work, Miss Evans, carry on."

It made Evans indescribably cross, and she'd taken to shooting sulky glares at the classroom at large whilst Slughorn sung his praise. Severus quite liked how her brow furrowed and her lips pursed, and he almost smiled at her habit of dusting her robes, pushing back her cuticles, or otherwise tidying herself while the Professor explained exactly why his potion was superior to hers.

It was only a matter of time before she started fighting back.

He noticed the stockings first. They were thin Muggle stockings, the type his mother used to wear back when they could afford such things. The stockings were of a deceivingly demure black, but were just translucent enough to tease innocent bystanders with the hint of pale skin beneath. When she was walking, they were generally hidden by her long robes, as was only proper. When she sat in Potions though, always in the seat directly in front of him, they peeked out from beneath the thick fabric in the most distracting and unseemly way, her gallingly shapely ankles mocking him in his efforts to concentrate.

What was worse though was the thing she did with her hair. She had this silver clip with pretty enamel flowers on it, and nearly every day at the beginning of class, she pulled her hair up with it. Oh, it seemed innocent enough, just tying back the long red locks to keep them out of her eyes, no insult, no injury. But when she did, it revealed the long, slender column of her neck, which was anything but innocent.

It was pale and soft-looking, with delicate strands of silky hair escaping the glittering clip and falling enticingly down her nape. When she turned her head just so, the graceful arch of it drew her robes away from her shoulder, their blackness accentuating the enticing pallor and hinting at other, hidden delights beneath. It begged for gentle touches and the soft press of lips against that flawless skin, and it was enough to drive Severus mad.

He'd recognized this almost immediately for the bewitchery it was. However, it seemed there was nothing he could do about it. He'd spent long hours in the library pouring over what few pertinent books were not locked up beyond his reach in the Restricted Section, but to no avail. Whatever sort of Dark Magic she was using to enthral him wasn't something he could identify, and the new Defence professor was fain to let him suffer, never once offering a single pass no matter how extreme Severus's interest or flattery.

Feeling particularly desperate last night, he'd woken Sirius. Being the scion of a family so steeped in Dark Arts, if anyone knew, it would be he.

After a fair amount of snorting and snuffling around against his pillows, the sleepy boy had mumbled something about Evans always wearing those stockings and her neck not looking any different from anyone else's, and how would a Muggle-born Gryffindor know Dark Magic like that, anyway? Severus had been all but congratulating the other boy for his wisdom on the subject when Sirius added something like, "You could've just told me you fancied Evans, you know."

Such an insipid comment infuriated Severus beyond reason, and he'd used one of the new jinxes he'd been working on, Langlock, to shut him up. To his further irritation, Sirius had just rolled his eyes and gone back to sleep, indifferent to the fact that his tongue was stuck solidly to the roof of his mouth.

Severus didn't sleep at all the entire night, and though he took an hour-long, exceptionally cold shower, he could still feel Evans's trickery upon him. He'd cursed Gryffindors and their evil machinations at the top of his lungs just to hear the sound reverberate off the cold tile walls, and vowed to put a stop to this insanity.

He'd known that when he approached Evans she'd try to deny it, and such was the case. Her feigned virtuousness, however, did her no justice. In fact, she seemed all the more guilty gaping at him now, her mouth working soundlessly like a landed plimpy.

"I'm glad we have an understanding," he told her, gracing her with a rare and nasty glimpse of his dull, uneven teeth.

At that, she threw her hands into the air and walked away without uttering a single word.

Very poor showing, Severus thought, not an ounce of cunning in her body. He returned to his room with a feeling of triumph, not even once having attempted to glance at her ankles, which increased upon seeing that Sirius was lying in his bed and not out with those benighted Gryffindors.

"I'm not going to be able to do it," Sirius sighed, fussing with Severus's pillow. "Not by Christmas, anyway. Holiday starts in two days, and I'm not even close."

Severus smacked at his shoulder and slid down onto the duvet beside him. "You do realize there are six beds in this room, do you not?"

"It's so disappointing. I'm appalled at myself, really," Sirius continued.

"Your bed is over there," Severus pointed. "This is mine. Get off."

Sirius scowled thunderously. "Potter called me stupid. I mean, he's been calling me names all along, but he called me stupid and MEANT IT, and I feel really, really pathetic. My entire life is a sham, Severus. I'm a disgrace."

"I could've told you that. As a matter of fact, I'm fairly sure I did. And just in case, how about this: you're stupid, incapable, and dead ugly." He shoved at the other boy again. "Now move. I'm making hexes today."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Oh, I feel so much better now, Severus, I really do. Tell me my map is ugly too, because Potter did. I could tell he didn't mean it, but--"

"Oh, don't tell me you were stupid enough to show it to him, because I know you're not. Now really, I just--"

"What's stupid about showing off my map? My map is genius. Pettigrew tried to steal it, not very sneaky about it either. And Moony, he liked it as much as you did. Had me enchant another Galleon for him so he could try it out. Very obliging bloke, that Moony. I'm thinking of adopting him."

Severus was morally outraged for any number of entirely justifiable reasons. "Black--"

"I'll give him a blanket, he can sleep, ah, down there on the floor, won't take up much space, he's a small fellow. Or, in my trunk. Yes, that's perfect, newly-adopted Slytherins deserve trunks, don't you think? He'd be all nuzzled in like a little baby Puffskein. We could get him some as nestmates. You think Slughorn would be alright with it?"

"I hate you," Severus sighed. "I hate you, and you're stupid, and I hate you." Knowing this was a substandard insult, Severus Langlocked him again. Luckily, the jinx wore off in a few hours, as he'd not yet invented a counter.

The next night, their last before holidays, Sirius didn't come to his bed.

"I'm going to do my best," he told Severus from across the room, quietly so as not to wake the others. "I'm going to behave myself like a good little Black and laugh at all of Uncle Alphard's awful jokes and use the word Mudblood at least seventeen times per day in Mother's presence. And when Bella throws up on my shoes, I'll just, I'll throw up on hers. How hard could it be?"

"Happy vomiting," Severus told him, "and don't you dare forget my gift. I'm making you something amazing."

Sirius sighed. "It'll be fine, right? It'll be fine. It's only two weeks. Quidditch matches can last months, and they have to wait for replacements to take a shit. It'll be fine, I can shit whenever I want, I'm nearly an adult now, I can handle it," he said, voice firm and resolute.

Severus didn't answer.

"No, really. It'll be fine, Severus. I can do it. Right?"

"Goodnight, Sirius," he said.

Sirius didn't answer.

Neither of them slept.

Severus's holiday was split between the library and his private lab. The only time he spared was for necessary procedures like eating, pissing, or sleeping, the first two of which he coordinated in joint ventures so as to ensure optimal study time. Christmas itself passed with a perfunctory look under the tree to confirm his customary and very much needed socks, and was thereafter summarily disregarded.

With so few students about, and even some of the staff gone to spend time with their families, even such mundane things as changing into his nightclothes, brushing his hair, and showering could be easily omitted from his routine. This earned him a grand total of just under 19 hours per day of study time.

He used each hour to its full extent, even with Madam Pince giving him constant reproving looks as he sat alone in the library behind his towering stacks of reference books and lexicons. She'd never really forgiven him for his infamous Valentines Day Outburst last year, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to care. He did, however, make sure she didn't see him writing in his book, as he didn't fancy her having an epileptic fit and/or coronary embolism. They might close the library.

Give or take the bit of time he spent revising for classes and daydreaming about that particularly delicious looking place just below Lily Evan's right ear, he'd worked approximately 250 hours when Sirius walked back into their dormitory.

"Severuuuus! Happy Christmas! Merlin's arse, it's good to be back! I brought you a--"

Even the blinding reminder that Blacks, as paragons of pureblood Wizardly tradition, did not wear pants couldn't detract from the glory of Severus's achievement.

"Happy Christmas to you as well," Severus told him. "D'you like your present?"

Sirius grunted and wrestled spasmodically with the thick robes that had fallen down around his head, the tips of his hair just touching the ground. His ankle swivelled in its magical hold but wasn't dislodged, no matter how much his long, pale legs kicked to free him.

"You," he panted when he finally got the fabric pulled up, a look of wild, awed excitement on his beet red, upside-down face, "are my FUCKING HERO!"

"Tell me something I don't know," he replied, and with a flick of his wrist, dropped Sirius head-first onto the floor.

It was the most perfect Christmas Severus had ever had.


	5. SPELLED FEET AND MUDBLOODS

CHAPTER 5: SPELLED FEET AND MUDBLOODS

Trousers became a very popular accessory at Hogwarts over the next few months.

As Levicorpus was a nonverbal spell and Sirius had gotten quite crafty at hidden wand waves, it took even the Slytherins a good deal of time before they figured out who was actually behind it. When they did, any number of bribes were offered for the incantation. As he was the most persistent, Sirius agreed to teach it to Aubrey for the discount price of eight galleons, seven sickles, three knuts, and a half a bag of ice mice. Unfortunately for Aubrey, he'd not yet learned to use nonverbal spells.

"You should've made sure you could cast it before you paid for it," Sirius told him by way of apology.

"You should've known I couldn't! We don't learn that until next year!" Aubrey griped.

"Here's an idea, O illustrious prefect of ours," Severus offered, holding up one of the ice mice by its tail and poking at its exposed belly to make it squeak, "take a little initiative and learn nonverbal spells on your own."

Aubrey looked at him as though he'd gone insane.

Insanity seemed to have become a common theme in Severus's life, even more so with the increased exposure to Gryffindors. Take, for example, the Incident of the Spelled Feet.

Severus was on his way to test the efficacy of scurvy grass when diluted in a three-quarters solution of Alihosty when he had a sudden epiphany about Lily Evans and Entrancing Enchantments. That was it, that must be it, and he knew exactly the book to confirm it.

The sight of Remus Lupin alone in the library, bent over a dusty and intriguing-looking text was not an unusual one in and of itself. Severus often found him seated at a quiet, out-of-the-way table, presumably so that if he became spontaneously ill (as was his wont) other patrons would remain undisturbed. Today he was sitting at an isolated table near the geography section. He coughed as Severus approached; his physical appearance however, was anything but usual.

"Lupin," Severus said, careful to use his Library Voice. "Why do you have no toes?"

The Gryffindor blinked up at him. "What?"

"You have," Severus repeated calmly, "no toes. Why?"

Lupin leaned back in his seat and peered down into the empty space below his desk, confirming that his scuffed black shoes did, in fact, cut off just before his toes began. He slid them slowly underneath himself, and the rest of his feet revealed themselves. "Ah," he started.

Had Severus not already determined what was going on, the bodiless hand that shot out from under the table and grabbed his leg would've given him quite a nasty shock. Instead, he just rolled his eyes. "Good evening, Sirius."

"Shhh!" someone hissed, and Sirius's disembodied head suddenly joined his arm.

"Come on, get under before somebody comes!" Sirius ordered, yanking at his leg.

"Shhh!" the voice said again.

"Shut it, Prongs!" Sirius demanded. "Now budge up, he's coming in!"

Potter protested that his gargantuan nose would take up too much space and the stench of the grease in his hair would suffocate them, and Sirius told Potter it was his stupidity would do that, so shut your bloody mouth you bloody prat. "Hurry, someone's coming!" Lupin warned, urging him inside.

The light was diffused and there was little manoeuvrability room under the table, but Severus managed to get himself in. His knees pulled up to his chin and head bumping against the tabletop, his fingers lingered lovingly on the silky grey fabric of the invisibility cloak.

"Isn't it brilliant?" Sirius whispered.

Severus was about to agree when he came to the realization that his fellow Slytherin was referring not to the cloak, which must've been fixed to the table with some sort of sticking charm, but to the map spread out between the four of them. It wasn't Sirius's map of Hogwarts though; it was an detailed map of the library, complete with shelves, tables, and card catalogues.

Sirius had told him a while back that he'd begun a new map with the Gryffindors, something to distract them from his poor skills at whatever it was he'd heartlessly blackmailed them into teaching him. He'd asked Severus if he wanted to help, but that was obviously out of the question. Working with Gryffindors was pure insanity, after all.

THIS was insanity, and he took the opportunity to inform all involved parties. They ignored him, tacitly proving his point.

"It's too cramped, I can't move," Potter griped, waving his hand in front of his nose. "Ugh, stinks!"

Pettigrew pinched his nose, and Severus rolled his eyes. "Now pardon the intrusion, but may I ask what in the name of Merlin you all think you're doing under here?"

Potter muttered a no, Pettigrew called Severus slimy, and Sirius grinned. "We're testing a new theory."

"And you couldn't've done that somewhere, say, NOT in the library crammed together under a table beneath an invisibility cloak, a single overly loud word away from countless detentions?"

Sirius sighed long-sufferingly. "Severus, my friend, I love you like the brother I never had--"

"You have a brother," Severus pointed out.

"--but you do tend to suck the joy out of life sometimes. No sense of adventure, none whatsoever."

Severus snorted rather loudly. "Because shoving oneself under a table with a bunch of idiotic--"

"Shhh!"

"--with a bunch of idiotic Gryffindors," he continued, quieter, "is so terribly adventurous."

Sirius shrugged. "Had to do it here in case Moony needed to look more things up, anyway. Want to--"

"Shhh!"

Severus felt at the invisibility cloak again. It was so smooth, it could've been stitched with running water, and the mere thought of it made him scratch at his itchy robes. A Ravenclaw girl walked past, her form a dreamy shade of silver through its delicate stitching, and turned into the classical history section. She perused the shelves for a moment, eventually pulling out an enticingly large green tome, the title of which Severus unfortunately couldn't make out.

"Moony?" Sirius said when the girl had left with her book.

"Right. Right, I'm ready with the ah, with the spell. All clear," Lupin murmured.

"Should I go?" Pettigrew asked, sounding terribly excited.

"Yes yes go, Wormtail," Potter told him, throwing Sirius a dirty look. "Merlin's sake."

And then Pettigrew was slipping out from under the cloak, and Lupin was slipping in. He had several quills in his hand, as well as a piece of parchment and a small glass inkwell. And for some odd reason, Sirius was unlacing his shoes.

"Wait. If this is some sort of obscure, questionably moral Dark Ceremony," Severus started.

"It's not," Sirius said, removing a sock.

Severus scowled. "Who's sucking all the joy out of things now?"

"Well, this is, you'll have to sit, ah," Lupin motioned across from him, his cheeks pink.

"Right, Moony. Potter," Sirius smiled nastily, "switch with me, you tosser. Or else."

What ensued was a seating change involving, for all its brevity, more rude words than Severus could've reasonably hoped for. Potter must've been taking notes during his time together with Sirius because his swears, though still not up to par, were definitely improving. The cramped rearrangement of bodies ended with Lupin and Sirius sitting next to each other, and Potter fuming in his place beside Severus.

"Oi, Prongs!" Sirius hissed as he awkwardly raised his right foot toward Lupin. "Get off the map!"

Potter made a face. "I can't! If I move any further, I'll touch Snivellus!"

"Call him that again, and you'll be drinking your next meal through a straw." Sirius's look said he meant it. "Now MOVE, your bloody arse is on the restricted section! We can't spell the library with your arse on the restricted section! It's not sanitary!"

"No way in Hell, Black! He's all greasy and disgusting and he, he'll BREATHE on me and give me WORMS!"

"Oh, stop being an idiot, he doesn't have worms! I sleep in the same bed with him all the time, and at least his hair doesn't look like owls nest in it! Now get off the damned map!"

"Don't call me an idiot, idiot! What do you mean, you SLEEP IN THE SAME BED WITH--"

"Ahem," Pettigrew interrupted, silencing them.

The two glared at each other, and Lupin turned red to the tips of his ears. "Black has horrible, debilitating nightmares," Severus clarified, feeling the colour rise to his cheeks.

"Yes, about your ailing thrice-great grandfather," Sirius added. "I'm so terribly concerned for his health."

Potter ground his teeth and threw him a murderous glare. His arse was nowhere near the restricted section.

"If you could please just move your ah, foot up…" Lupin mumbled, looking as though he'd like to sink into the floor.

Sirius squirmed back against a disgusted Potter to better position himself, holding his foot up to eye level by the ankle. "This isn't terribly comfortable, Moony. I'd be obliged if you could hurry it up a mite."

Lupin nodded shakily, dipped a quill into his ink, and put the tip to Sirius's heel. Severus wasn't sure how Sirius managed not to jerk as Lupin copied the entire contents of his parchment onto the sole of his foot. As the enchanted ink needed time to dry, switching feet was rather complicated. The completed procedure involved Sirius half-sprawled across a thoroughly appalled Potter's legs with an arm braced against Severus's thigh, knees spread on either side of Lupin with the wet foot dangling haphazardly in the air.

Lupin's hand was trembling quite noticeably now, and about halfway through the second foot, his fingers stopped, the quill halted against Sirius's arch. A look of apparent horror played across his flushed face, and Severus thought he might pass out from overexertion.

Potter made a disgusted noise and yanked at Sirius's robes, which were slipping down into his lap. "Keep the equipment in the shed why don't you, Black? You're scandalizing poor Remus. Just look at him!"

The boy did indeed look scandalized, and Severus rolled his eyes at the senseless propriety. Lupin was probably one of those who changed behind his curtains, woke before anyone else so he could shower alone, and touched himself only the absolute minimal requisite amount to ensure proper aim while pissing. Idiot Gryffindors.

Sirius's feet did eventually get finished, after which Potter flicked his wand at them and murmured something low and poetic sounding. "Now put your feet down," Potter instructed.

Sirius snapped that he knew how the map worked but did as he was told.

They all stared at the map in anticipation, Severus most of all, as he'd no idea what to expect. For a moment, they held their breaths, and nothing happened. Then, beneath their table, small but clear, a set of inky black feet appeared. Lupin gasped, and Sirius let out a quickly muffled hoot.

"Ahem," Pettigrew coughed.

"I can't believe it worked," Potter smiled. He shook his head as the mapped feet appeared and disappeared with little inky echoes as Sirius moved his own feet up and down on the ground.

"Of course it worked, Potter. I am a genius!" Sirius declared, grinning fit to crack his cheeks.

"You get on my last nerve," Severus snapped.

Sirius blinked.

"You always think you're better than everyone else, don't you? You think you're so clever. It's a bleeding pair of FEET, Black, it doesn't take a genius to spell them onto a piece of parchment! And when were you going to tell me about any of this? Or weren't you, now that you've your fantastic new Gryffindor mates to knock about with? And don't contradict me," he snarled when Sirius tried to interrupt, "because we both know you're the worst sort of false friend, and I'm never speaking to you again, ever!"

He ripped aside the cloak and stormed out of the library, furious that Sirius could've done something like this to him. He was making maps and friends and a million reasons for an unbridgeable rift to form between them, and he didn't even realize it. And to top it all off, Severus had to go without his book on Entrancing Enchantments.

The next morning, Sirius woke him from a fitful half-sleep with smuggled eggs, orange juice, and pudding.

"Pudding is not a breakfast food," Severus informed him, licking some off his lips. It was lovely.

"I didn't tell you about it because you said a trillion and a half times you didn't want to hear about the map," Sirius said with a pout, perching on the end of his bed. "And if I recall, you said it quite vehemently."

"Vehemently?" Severus stared. "Did you learn that word just for me?"

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "Do you like it?"

Severus grunted and took a gulp of his juice.

"Then yes, I did! Just for you! Because you're my best mate, and you deserve it!" And with that, he launched himself at Severus, nearly upsetting his juice. "Don't leave me, Severus! I'm lost without you! My love springs eternal and boundless!"

"That sounds stupid. I don't want you seeing those Gryffindor boys anymore," Severus chastised. "They're going to get you into trouble. And if there's anyone you should be making mischief with, it's me."

"Fat lot of mischief you make laying in bed reading," he muttered, rubbing Severus's stomach. "And by the way, that bony vulture of a librarian found us out when you started yelling. Wormtail makes a horrible lookout. We've detention every night for a week with Filch, and we're banned from the library until further notice. Moony nearly shed perfectly tears."

"Good," Severus told him, contentedly mussing the other boy's hair, "It serves you idiots right. I don't see what you need another map for anyway."

Sirius shook his head and made as if to bite Severus's fingers. "Oh, we're still making the map. We just have to do it at night now, using the cloak."

Severus shoved at him. "But I don't want you to!"

"I can't help it!" Sirius told him, unfazed and uncaring. "I crave adventure, Severus! It's in my blood! And they need me! You give me that look, but they do, they're pathetic and lost without my brilliant captainship!"

"Captainship?" Severus sniffed. "What are you, pirates?"

"Pirates, yar!" Sirius beamed. "They call us the Scourge of the Seven Floors, Raiders of the Great Hall, Marauders of…"

"Marauders of the Undersides of Library Tables," Severus supplied, scowling.

"Yes!" Sirius exclaimed gleefully. "That! Come maraud with us, Severus!"

"No, no, and no," Severus informed him, annoyed to the nth degree that maraud was an actual verb, when it was painfully clear that Sirius had made it up on the spot. He worked up a tremendous glower just thinking about it.

Sirius matched it with a pout.

"Don't give me those wretched puppy-dog eyes," Severus demanded. "You know I'm immune."

Sirius stuck out his bottom lip and batted his lashes. "Please? Please, for little ickle puppy-kins?"

"More like a mangy, flea-bitten mutt," Severus informed him, poking at his bottom lip. It was squishy and a bit slug-like.

Sirius laughed and fluttered his lashes again. It reminded Severus of Evans in a very irksome way; he still needed to check on that book. "Oh, come on! You know you-- wait. Wait." A strange look crossed his face.

"Oh, come off it. I meant mangy in the nicest way," Severus told him, but it oddly didn't wipe that look off his face. In fact, it became even stranger. "What, going to take the breakfast back now? Because I'm afraid I must inform you that my stomach won't give it up without a fight."

Sirius shook his head, snapping out of whatever stupor he'd been in. "No. No, it's. I just. Thinking. I was thinking and I have to, ah, go. Somewhere. Now."

Severus stared.

"Terribly sorry and all that!" Sirius exclaimed. He then licked Severus across the face and darted from the room, robes flapping behind him. And just like that he was gone, Severus's bed cold and empty where he'd been laying.

Severus wasn't sure if he should feel murderous or suicidal, so he settled for dumping the rest of his breakfast all over Sirius's unmade bed and calling it even.

* * *

It wasn't an Entrancing Enchantment. 

It was something else, and Severus spent weeks pouring through old and crumbling texts trying to figure it out. He tried dozens of anti-jinxes, antidotes, and counter-spells. Nothing worked, and instead of getting better, it kept getting WORSE.

There were new things about her that captivated him now. The way she pursed her lips when she concentrated. The way she folded her hands in her lap when Professor Slughorn was explaining a new potion. The way she smiled when Lupin asked her for help, and laughed when one of her girlfriends said something clever.

The way she drank tea.

He'd hear her voice when other girls were talking. He'd see her enter a room when no one was there. He'd feel her soft, cool hands against his temples when Sirius was off marauding and his head was pounding fit to crack his skull.

He dreamt of her.

When he awoke in the morning on the cusps of such dreams in a rather embarrassing condition, he had no doubt that his senses were inextricably ensnared by this bewitchment for which he had no defence, and all he wanted was for it to stop.

And then one day he realized something.

If it truly were a spell or a potion or, as he'd reason to believe, something else so unspeakably Dark he was unable to even identify it, he wouldn't want it to stop. He COULDN'T want it to stop. When held in the thrall of Dark Magic, the victim had no control over their desires; that was the whole point. That meant whatever was troubling him wasn't magical in nature.

So what in the name of Salazar Slytherin was wrong with him?

Or maybe the better question was, what WASN'T wrong with him? It felt like everything Severus had was slipping through his fingers, like his life was a carriage that'd taken a wrong turn, and he couldn't find the road back.

OWLs were coming up, and he hadn't revised nearly enough. He was sure to fail Transfiguration, and his History of Magic notes were so lacking from his constant inattention to Professor Binns that he'd probably not pass that either. He'd also elected to take the Muggle Studies OWL even though he wasn't attending the class, and he was wasting precious time teaching himself acceptable (a.k.a. wrong) Wizarding terminology so as not to look overly knowledgeable.

Career day had started with high hopes, only to topple down about Severus's ears when Professor Slughorn told him he hadn't "the right disposition" to become an Unspeakable, "the proper constitution" to be an Auror, or "enough financial backing" to become a researcher. Severus wished he'd just called him unfriendly, sickly, and poor; it would've stung less. It was as if the words "incredible" and "amazing" had never passed the man's lips in Severus's presence.

Sirius had never wanted anyone else before, and now when Severus needed him, he was sneaking around behind Severus's back with men of questionable moral character. What they shared had been sacrosanct, and Sirius had tossed it on the floor and stamped upon it like so much soiled carpet. It was only a matter of time before any number of unholy Gryffindor principles rubbed off on him.

It was a warm May day, and the two of them were laying under a large beech tree down by the lake. Severus was revising for Astronomy, and Sirius was sprawled on his belly, uninterestedly hexing the grass.

"What would you do if I kissed you?" he asked.

Severus noted how ironic it was that Io was covered in volcanoes, while Europa was covered in ice, yet they were both Galilean moons. It was fascinating that two celestial bodies could be so close together yet so entirely different in composition.

Sirius poked his wand into Severus's side. "Hey, did you hear me?"

"I'm trying not to," Severus told him. He decided a Venn diagram would sum this all up nicely and set about designing one in the corner of his text.

Sirius made a noise and poked at him again. "I'm serious, Snape."

"Fascinating, so am I. I'm also revising for OWLs. You might try it sometime."

"Right… so what if I revised and THEN kissed you?" he offered.

"What if I hexed your teeth into kneazles?"

Sirius sighed heavily and sat up. "Actually that wouldn't be a hex, it'd be Transfiguration, and you're pants at Transfiguration, so what that means is you're not taking me seriously, and you know I hate that. Now you absolutely must answer me. I even waited until you were somewhere not-in-bed and everything, so it wouldn't be uncomfortable."

"Then I think you need to revise your definition," Severus informed him, "because I fail to see the comfort in this situation. In fact, I think you're very a disturbed young man."

"I am not disturbed! Well," he recanted, "maybe a little. The tiniest smidgen. Just, just this much. Now about the kissing--"

"Stop saying that word," Severus demanded, starting to feel annoyed. His book was already too cramped with messily scrawled notes to properly fit the diagram, and he was out of parchment.

"Then just answer me already!"

"You're barking," Severus retorted. "Why would you even ask that?"

"Because I want to know the answer! Why else?"

"I don't," Severus swallowed, thinking of the way Lily Evans had put balm on her lips at lunch, "I don't kiss."

"Okay, I can't believe it's ME who's saying this, but do you not understand the question or something? Do I need to use smaller words? I didn't ask if you kissed, I asked _what you would do if I kissed you!_"

"What I would do if you kissed me? You kiss me all the time. In PUBLIC!" he fumed, slamming his book shut. "You kissed me very noisily on the Express at the beginning of the year and you licked eggs off my mouth last week, and don't forget about Valentines Day when you were completely sloshed and stuck your tongue in my--"

"No no no, I don't mean that! I mean… like, an actual kiss. A real one. Like, if I… " his voice grew quiet, "you know. With my lips against yours, and… and tongue…"

Severus looked back down at his book, a lump in his throat and face feeling hot.

"Just once," Sirius whispered. "That's all I ask. And then if you don't like it…"

This wasn't Sirius. This wasn't HIS Sirius, because HIS Sirius would never say such things. HIS Sirius wouldn't have that look in his eyes, as though he actually ENJOYED knotting his fingers in Severus's greasy tangles, and running his thumb across Severus's oily cheek.

Severus's heart beat out a strange rhythm in his chest, and he turned, batting Sirius's hand away. "Very amusing, Black," he snapped, voice ridiculously steady, "but I'm not so hard-up you have to pretend I'm tolerable enough to snog. I don't kiss, I don't want to kiss, and this Gryffindor sense of self-sacrifice you've developed is intolerable."

"Severus, I'm not--"

"I don't care! I'm not some sort of charity case, Black! I don't need you with your gorgeousness and your perfection to make me feel like I'm worth something! I'm fine with being hideous! I LIKE it! You want to know what I'd do if you kissed me? I'd VOMIT!" he spat, panting.

Sirius's face snapped from cautious and caring to hateful in a split second. "Fine!" he shouted. "Because I wasn't going to! You're right, you're hideous and no one in their right mind would touch you in a million years!"

"I know that!" Severus shouted back, and threw his book at Sirius's face. "I know that, and I'll spend my entire life with my right hand as my only companion and die a shrivelled, parchmenty virgin, and I don't care!"

"Fine then!" Sirius howled. "So will I!"

"Fine!"

_"Fine!"_

"FINE!"

_"FINE!"_

A cool breeze blew over them, rustling the tree branches and making small ripples across the lake. A bird flew overhead, its small black form stark against the deep blue of the cloudless sky. A group of Hufflepuffs stepped out of the castle doors, chattering happily and tossing a Fanged Frisbee between themselves. Severus's Astronomy book lay open in the grass beside them, its pages bent and dirtied.

"What if you just fixed the nose?" Sirius asked, breaking the terrible silence. "It's just this gargantuan sort of beak, and my father knows this incredible mediwizard--"

Severus could've wept with relief. "I don't mind if you date. You don't have to be alone just because of me, abstinence is not the best option for everyone, in fact most people--"

"I couldn't do it without asking you first, I had to be sure!" Sirius told him.

"It's a Gryffindor girl, isn't it?" It had better not be Evans.

Sirius snorted, making a face. "Don't be foolish, of course not. There's no girl. How can you not know that?"

Severus sighed. For a moment he'd thought he understood, but he should've know better than to assume Sirius's thought processes contained some element of comprehensibility. "If it weren't the nose, it'd be something else. It's always something else."

"Any girl would be lucky to have you," Sirius said emphatically, "nose or no."

Severus sighed and laid down, taking one of Sirius's hands in his.

Sirius patted his knuckles. "You're taking everything too seriously, Severus. You can't control everything. Sometimes you just have to lay back and let things happen."

"I'm laying back right now," Severus told him, intertwining their fingers.

"If I were a girl, you'd totally shag me though, right?" Sirius asked eagerly.

Severus smiled and closed his eyes. The sun was warm against his face. "To exhaustion," he reassured.

That night, Severus was applying a poultice to the sunburn on his forehead when Sirius left to maraud. "See you after work, darling!" he called over his shoulder on his way out the door.

Severus's hex missed him by mere inches. He blamed it on the numbing properties of the steeped yew paste currently covering his fingers.

Severus was awoken at half two by the heavy weight of a book being dropped on his chest. _A Brief Treatise Upon the History and Practice of the Spyglass Charm_, he read with the assistance of a weak lumos. "What's this?"

"Fell on me," Sirius whispered, peeling off his robes. The light from Severus's wand glinted dully off his pale skin.

"This is," Severus fanned through the pages, "isn't this restricted?"

"Yeah. We were, ah, researching. Map. And it. It fell on me," he answered, swearing when he caught a button from his nightshirt on his hair.

"It fell on you," Severus repeated as Sirius tugged at his knotted hair. "So you brought it back with you? Another of your haphazard errant jaunts into kleptomania?"

"Had to. Filch heard us. Researching," Sirius said in a low voice. Haven now gotten his hair untangled, he held the garment at arm's length, regarding it with distinct distrust as though it might attack again at any time should he drop his guard.

"Stop shagging and go to bed, you two," a sleep-deepened voice murmured.

"Yes yes, wonderful idea, must sleep now, very tired!" Sirius announced, tossing the nightshirt on the floor.

"Sirius--" Severus started, but the other boy had already pulled shut his curtains.

The book turned out to be rather tamer than he'd expected, its main qualification for restriction seemingly its reference to the outstanding visual enlargement of Helga Hufflepuff's bosom. The charm might come in handy some day though, and he jotted down some notes in his potions book as the morning light filtered in through their small, grated window.

When Sirius wasn't awake at nearly nine, Severus woke him and informed him he was to bring another book from the restricted section as soon as possible. Sirius told him he hadn't slept at all and was skiving today, but that Severus could take notes for him as a special treat.

"It's Saturday, you berk," Severus informed him.

"Then why the bloody hell did you get me up?" Sirius demanded.

"I like to bask in the sunny glow of your misery," Severus replied and left him to his drowsy devices.

* * *

"…told you he… listen to me…" 

"…won't tell me… WRONG with him! You think I…"

"…care how he… painful for him… bit of respect for once… wouldn't kill you…"

"…sick person… feelings is just plain MEAN, Potter!"

"Yeah, well you know a lot about being mean, don't you Black?"

Severus ducked quickly back around the corner, flattening himself against the wall in an incredibly silly attempt to make himself unnoticeable. He'd only been walking back from his potions room and hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but it was hardly his fault. People should really do this sort of thing in private, but if they didn't, well, their loss was his potential gain.

"Look, I'm just worried about him," Sirius's voice was stating from the vicinity of the portrait of the Gryffindor dormitories. "OWLs are coming up, and I know he's really concerned about--"

"He's fine now, quit your bloody snooping!" Potter told him.

"It's just-- he's been so much better lately, and having gone back in with Pomfrey--"

Potter let out an exhausted sigh. "Look, I've lived with him for almost five years now, and I'm telling you he's alright. Gryffindors take care of their own."

"You're lying!" Sirius accused. "You're jealous because he likes me better now, isn't that right?"

"You are absolutely mental!" Potter exclaimed, and Severus shared his disbelief. "Likes you better? I think your brain's been addled by all that time locked in the dungeon with that Dark little oddball--"

"You bastard, don't you dare talk about Severus that way!" Sirius sounded furious.

"Yeah, what're you going to do about it, mophead? I'll talk about anyone I want however I damn well please, and if Moony's getting worse, it's probably because you have him up at all hours of the night working on that blasted map!"

"He volunteered! He volunteered, you HEARD him volunteer when--"

"I've heard rumours about you and your best mate, Black." The sneer was audible in Potter's voice. "Seems you've been performing some rather intimate Dark Rituals in not-so-private places, if you know what I mean. You two're earning yourselves quite a reputation."

Severus's throat went dry.

"Potter, if I had any idea what you meant, I'd probably punch you in the face, so you're lucky you're too stupid to make any sense."

The Gryffindor snorted and muttered something unintelligible. Severus was incomparably relieved.

"Also, I think you may be forgetting your position here, so allow me to remind you what will happen should you anger me. Not only will I report you and Pettigrew to the Headmaster," Sirius threatened, and Potter cursed at him, "but I will inform Miss Evans as to what _exactly _happened to her missing pink knickers."

Potter gasped. "You wouldn't! Not even a Slytherin could be so low!"

"Try me!" Sirius retorted. "I'm the lowest!"

Potter swore again, and there was the sound of scuffing feet. Severus took a moment to check his surroundings and was reassured to find no other students about. He did his best not to wonder what Potter had done with Evans's knickers and whether he might be able to persuade Sirius to show them to him (or at least, you know, describe them with multiple and copious highly expressive adjectives).

"Well?" Sirius prompted.

"Well what?" Potter snapped.

Were they lacy?

"Tell me about Moony, you dolt!" Sirius demanded.

"There's nothing to tell!" Potter shouted.

Oh MERLIN if they had little flowers on them…

His thought was cut short by a shocked exclamation from Potter and a loud crack. Even if Severus hadn't invented the spell, he'd heard it enough around Sirius to recognize Levicorpus by sound.

"Good luck getting down from there, Prongsy!" Sirius laughed. "I'm off to perform some intimate Dark Rituals with my best mate!"

Severus fled. The only thing he could think about was lacy pink flowered knickers, and if Sirius came his way, he'd blurt out something inappropriate and embarrass himself irreparably.

OWLs, he told himself. OWLs! Must revise. So much revision to do! No time for distractions! He repeated this all the way back to his potions room, where he set about brewing a Calming Draught and Draught of Peace to add to the Invigoration Draught, Pepperup Potion, and Wit-Sharpening Potion he'd already brewed in preparation for a week straight of nothing but panicked revision.

He refused to allow Sirius and his sudden inexplicable concern about the health of jumpery Gryffindors to distract him from his goal. Additionally, he created a detailed, colour-coded schedule for his studies in order to better focus, including five minutes at the end of every other hour in which he was free to fantasize about Evans's knickers all he pleased.

And then the true revision began.

Severus practiced Disarming Spells against Sirius and Summoned his toothbrush. He covered the shower room walls with wet, finger-written runes and star charts. He memorized the magical properties of the number 7 and feigned ignorance about telephones. He transfigured Stebbins's boots into otters. Admittedly, they were otters with laces, but they were otters nonetheless.

On Sunday night, his Arithmancy problems were swimming in front of his eyes and Aubrey's pleas to borrow his History of Magic notes sounded as though they were in Gobbledegook. Severus took a Sleeping Draught just before midnight when it became apparent he was far too exhausted to sleep naturally. He told Sirius to drag him out of bed at eight the next morning, by his ears if he had to.

Painful ears aside, the Charms examination went well. He thought he might've overdone it by citing famous historical examples of the use of each charm, but Sirius assured him he hadn't. "Don't even think about it," he said with a comforting pat on the back. "Those old codgers at the Wizarding Examinations Authority eat that sort of stuff up." He was probably just trying to get Severus to stop babbling about Fulbert the Fearful, but it was still a nice gesture.

Severus's hand was nipped by something venomous the next day during the Herbology practical. Though he only felt a little dizzy, the examiners had insisted that he take an antidote, which both cut into his exam time and made him look more than a little foolish. He'd been counting on acing Herbology, and the incident threw a sudden wrench in his plans.

He felt distinctly ill afterward, and it was only due to Sirius's quick thinking in thrusting his DADA notes into his hands directly upon their return to their room that disaster was averted.

He'd been waiting for the Defence Against the Dark Arts examination since, well, forever, and a tiny little setback like an E in Herbology wouldn't take that away from him.

"If you don't calm down, you're going to have a conniption," Sirius warned Wednesday morning at breakfast.

"Mmm nmph hmm mm!" he retorted, mouth full of toast.

Sirius handed him a glass of orange juice. "You say that now, but I'm the one going to be stuck walking you to the infirmary when you overdo it."

He took a large gulp. "Black, this examination was the reason I was created."

"Is that so?" Sirius raised an eyebrow, waving a piece of bacon. "Here and I thought it was because your parents got down to some knobbing."

Severus gagged. "Never say that again. As a matter of fact, don't bother ever saying anything again. You're banned. From speech. Starting now."

Sirius laughed. "You--"

"I thought I told you to shut up," Severus snapped, barely repressing a shiver.

Sirius silently dished him up some eggs.

The DADA exam was over all too soon, and he stretched his cramped neck as Flitwick called, "Quills down, please! That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment."

A bit of a ruckus followed as students packed up their things, and Sirius told him he was going to the library. Severus ignored this, set upon reviewing his exam paper before the practical that afternoon. He couldn't imagine he'd neglected anything, but if he didn't receive an O for DADA, he'd be forced to commit ritual suicide.

Reading as he walked, Severus followed the crowd exiting the hall until he found himself outside under a warm, bright sun, the cheerful talking of relieved students droning away from down by the lake. Remembering his last run-in with a vengeful solar orb, Severus laid down under some bushes.

Werewolves? Piece of cake. Expelliarmus? Child's play. Nogtails? He'd sited the exact Subdivision of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that sicced the hounds!

Offering himself a silent congratulations, he decided to go find Sirius and convince him to practice counter-jinxes. While actual revision was beyond the other boy, turning Severus's legs into wobbling pillars of jelly was not. Sadly, Severus was interrupted.

"All right, Snivellus?" a voice called.

Severus sneered and located the source: James Potter, with Pettigrew at his side.

With a shock of panic, Severus saw that Potter had his wand in hand, and he threw his bag to the ground to pull out his own. What the hell were the Gryffindors playing at now? He didn't even have time to raise it though, as Potter knocked it out of his hand.

Severus watched the slow arc of his wand across the clear sky in horror, only to be knocked off his feet by a well-cast Impedimenta.

"How'd the exam go, Snivelly?" said Potter.

Pettigrew sniggered shrilly. "I bet he got a Troll, since that's what he looks like! A great, greasy one!"

Fury clouded Severus's vision. "You just wait, Potter!" he hissed. "You fucking wait…"

"Yeah, what're you going to do Snivelly, call your little boyfriend on us?"

Severus cursed, his body not responding to his urging to retrieve the wand, and then cursed again when he realized there was no one to come to his rescue this time. When had he become so dependent on other people that a lone Gryffindor could best him? Glaring at Potter, he spat a mix of swearwords and hexes, none of which did any good as his wand was still out of reach and Potter was a thick-headed clod.

"Wash out your mouth," said Potter coldly. "Scourgify!"

And suddenly his mouth was filled with bubbles, and he was gagging and coughing, spitting foam as it dribbled down his lips. It was the sickest thing he'd ever tasted, even worse than the time Sirius had tried to feed him a sock, and he felt the urge to vomit rise when he heard her voice.

"Leave him ALONE!"

Just when Severus had thought things couldn't get any worse…

"Leave him alone," Lily Evans repeated. "What's he done to you?"

"Well," Potter sounded contemplative, "it's more the fact he exists, If you know what I mean…"

It was then that Severus realized they'd drawn a crowd. His classmates who'd been, until moments ago, innocently sitting beside the lake were now gathered around to laugh at his shame. If there'd been any Slytherin about earlier, they were long gone.

"You think you're funny," Evans said coldly, "but you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter! Leave him _alone_!

"I will if you go out with me, Evans," he answered quickly.

Severus was going to kill him. With his own bare hands, if needs be. He would ring Potter's neck until his vertebrae crushed between his fingers and his blood spurted in geysers. Mustering all his strength, Severus edged himself toward his wand, fingers digging into the grass to pull his still immobile body forward, furiously spitting soap suds.

"Prongs, look!" Pettigrew squeaked.

His fingers had just grazed the wood when there was a flash of light and he felt himself hoisted up by the ankle. He caught a brief glimpse of Potter's smirking face and Evans's stunned one before the world flipped and his robes fell down over his face. The crowd roared with laughter, and loud cheering met his ears as he struggled to cover his pallid legs and old, greying underpants from their view.

"Let him down," Evans said, though her tone was less than angry now.

"Certainly," Potter told her, and Severus was being dumped on his head. He hadn't even made it to his feet when Potter Petrified him, and he toppled sideways, body rigid.

Evans was livid. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" she shouted, and Severus could see from the corner of his eye that she'd drawn her wand.

"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," Potter threatened, and the two argued as Severus's anger grew.

Potter, that disgusting, friend-stealing git had somehow managed to get a hold of Severus's spell-- HIS spell!-- and now he was using it to try and get a bit of leg over! Evans, with her indecently enticing neck and precious little Gryffindor hero complex, had come to Severus's rescue. Was he so pathetic?

He must be, because Potter was relenting, and Severus felt his body freed from its curse. He was on his feet in an instant, eyes searching frantically for his wand, which had somehow ended up in Pettigrew's sweaty hand.

"There you go," Potter told him, as though a king granting clemency to a servant. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus--"

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" he spat.

He'd no idea where it came from. He only knew he was so angry his vision had turned red, and he wanted to make someone pay. Slytherins he didn't even know would walk up to him later and congratulate him as though he'd planned it all out, and he'd smile nastily and thank them. In truth, he was horrified with himself.

Evans was beyond furious. "Fine," she said coolly. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash my pants if I were you, _Snivellus_."

"Apologize to Evans!" Potter roared, pointing his wand threateningly.

Severus looked at her. Her silky red hair was falling gracefully around the delicate lines of her face, and the late morning sun glittered off the gloss on her smooth, soft-looking lips. Her startlingly green, almond shaped eyes flashed, and she glared at Severus as though she'd as soon curse his face off as talk to him. He felt like the most awful person on the planet. Apologize to her? As if he'd be able to get his lips around the words!

Her head snapped back to Potter. "I don't want _you _to make him apologize, James. You're as bad as he is!"

"What?" Potter yelped. "I'd NEVER call you a-- you-know-what!"

"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broom, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors hexing people just because you can-- I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK!" She turned on her heel and strode hurriedly away.

"Evans! Hey, EVANS!" Potter shouted at her retreating form. He swore when she kept walking and set off at a run to catch her. "I let him go! What about my DATE?"

Severus blinked at the crowd still surrounding him and shot Pettigrew a venomous glare. The boy very gingerly placed Severus's wand on the ground and backed away, ducking behind someone else before retreating quickly toward the school.

Severus snatched his wand and caught several onlookers in his toenail growing hex before they dispersed.

This was the worst day of his life. He felt distinctly faint and he'd never be able to concentrate on the Defence practical, he'd DIE if he didn't apologize to Lily Evans, and where the HELL was Sirius Black?

"BLACK!" he bellowed as he stormed into the common room.

"He's not here, Snape," Hobson told him from behind her Transfiguration book. "Left half an hour ago."

Severus swore. "Where did he go?"

"How would I know?" she asked, turning a page. "I thought you two were connected at the hip. When you find him though, tell him Margaret's looking for him, would you?"

Severus swore again and stamped back up the stairs, pushing a short, blond-haired boy down for good measure.

Nearly an hour later, Severus found Sirius exactly where he said he would be. Knowing Sirius, this was so unlikely as to be considered nearly impossible, and was thus the reason why he hadn't checked earlier. "What are you _doing _here?" Severus hissed in his Library Voice. He couldn't decide whether to drop in relief or throttle the boy.

"What does it look like I'm doing, you twit?" Sirius asked, motioning toward the Transfiguration text open on the table in front of him.

"I should-- I should go now," Lupin said, standing up and gathering his things. "Thank you for your ah, help, Sirius."

Sirius shrugged and handed him his quill. "No problem. Not like I actually need to revise or anything."

Lupin threw his bag over his shoulder and ducked his head, turning an odd shade of pink. "So then, I'll see you after the ah…"

"Of course," Sirius grinned.

Severus gaped at Lupin, who nearly overturned his chair while pushing it in, tripped over his own feet, and bumped into a stack of books on a nearby table, toppling it to the ground. Sirius covered his mouth to hold in his laughter and went to help the Gryffindor. Severus wished he'd stay a bit further away from Lupin; what if his jumpers really _were _contagious?

"What are you DOING here?" Severus repeated with a quick glare at the back of Lupin's retreating head. "I've been looking for you for an hour! The practical starts in--"

"It starts at three, I know," Sirius interrupted. "I told you I was going to be here, what's your problem?"

Severus made an infuriatedly grand gesture to the room at large. "This is a LIBRARY!"

"Of course it's a library, Moony wanted me to quiz him for Transfiguration tomorrow!" Sirius gave him that look he hated, the one that implied he should be on a strict regime of psychotropic medication.

Severus snapped. "How did Potter learn my spell?" he demanded. Sirius jumped as he slammed his hand down on the table.

Sirius shook his head in that stupidly innocent way of his. "What spell?"

"The one I made for you, Levicorpus, he knew it!" Severus trembled with rage. "How does he know it, Black?"

"I taught it to him. What's your issue? It was _my _present. I got you that book about Dark Arti--"

"You are not to teach MY spells to filthy Gryffindors! Do you HEAR me?" he shouted, fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms. "Do you FUCKING HEAR ME?"

"I think the whole library hears you, Severus!" Sirius answered.

Severus was exceedingly lucky that, on account of OWLs, he was the third student this week to go into a fit of stress-induced hysterics in the middle of the library. He was thus merely kicked out with a strict and utterly ignored order to report to the infirmary.

When Sirius finally demanded he explain what was wrong with him, Severus realized he no longer felt like talking. He was tired, worried about OWLs, and anxious about Evans. "Never mind, just cast some jinxes on me," he told the other boy. It wasn't as though he wouldn't hear about it anyway.

When he was called into the examination room, Severus found that Potter was still there. He cursed the alphabet for separating P and S by only two letters.

Potter didn't notice him though, as he was deep in conversation with an ancient-looking examiner about his father's recent involvement with the Department of International Magical Cooperation in regards to the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Severus contemplated casting Langlock on Potter to shut him up, but decided he couldn't risk it.

The practical went flawlessly. He thought he might've impressed the examiners a bit when he asked if that was really all because he knew a lot more, he'd invented dozens of spells himself, and didn't they want to see anything else? He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door firmly behind him, resting his forehead against the cool wood as a smile caught his lips. Unless he was very much mistaken, he had just received an Outstanding OWL.

He was brought out of his reverie by the dull thud of Sirius's fist breaking Potter's nose.

Potter howled in pain and Sirius howled in outrage, and Filch had to physically drag the two off of each other. They were all black eyes and split lips as they was hauled away to certain detention, and when Sirius flashed him a wicked smile, Severus thought he was missing a tooth.

Looks like he found out, Severus thought, and went back to the dormitory to pretend to revise for Transfiguration.

"I told the Headmaster it was all Potter's fault and I was only protecting the innocent from unjust degradation," Sirius told him that evening leaning back against his bedpost, his lip still a bit swollen. Madam Pomfrey didn't like healing people who'd deliberately and stupidly injured themselves. "If only we'd a Slytherin Headmaster, he'd've believed me for sure. It's nice he postponed the detentions until next year though. Really compassionate, that Albus Dumbledore, don't you think, Severus? Good old Dumbleduds, ickle Albie-kins…"

"Look, it's great you've some bonding time in with the Headmaster, Black," Severus started.

Sirius held up a hand. "I swear I'm staying as far away as possible from that rotten Gryffindor headcase from this moment on. No more map, no more blackmail, nothing, I promise."

"Why didn't you just tell the Headmaster what you know and get them expelled? Didn't you hear what they did to me? It was beyond humiliating!" And Evans saw the whole thing, and I want to absolutely DIE.

Sirius made a noise and muttered something indistinguishable which nevertheless distinctly involved the word "Moony."

"Say that audibly so that I may properly insult you," Severus demanded.

Sirius looked putout. "I don't think you're in the mood."

"What mood?" Severus crossed his arms and gave him a look. "What does that mean?"

"I just…" Sirius sighed and knocked the back of his head lightly against the bedpost. "I need to talk to you about something, but I don't think you're in the mood to talk about it, that's all."

"Well, if you'd had your wand stolen, your mouth Scourgified, and been hung by your ankle in front of half the school and laughed at because you're poor and your cheap robes turned your pants grey, I doubt you'd be much in the mood for anything either!"

"Oh, fine," Sirius pouted. "Make this all about you. Everything is always you you you, and you don't care about my feelings at all!"

Severus was so flabbergasted, it took him a moment to find his tongue. "Your feelings. Your _feelings!_ What the bloody hell are you barking about now, Black? That's MAD! We're men and, and Slytherin, we don't have FEELINGS!"

"You know, you never want to listen to me," Sirius told him with a wave of a hand, "and then you get angry when I don't tell you things. You're going to be angry about this one, I guarantee."

"No feelings," Severus restated. "Absolutely none. I utterly refuse."

Sirius sighed and flopped down beside him. "Fine. No feelings. But you're going to be very, very angry, and I'm really incredibly sorry in advance. I am."

"Good."

"Incredibly sorry."

"Perfect."

"When you do decide you want to talk about feelings, though--"

"You'll be the first to know, I promise," Severus told him, and went back to pretending to read his book and contemplating Evans's undergarments. If only Potter had caught HER in the Levicorpus…

_Merlin_, someone kill him!

Transfiguration the next day was every bit as awful as Severus had feared. He flew through the written portion, steadfastly ignoring both Lily Evans's deliciously scathing looks and a noteworthy incident in which Sirius hit James Potter upside the head with a well-aimed inkwell, but his wits failed him on the practical. Instead of Vanishing his iguana, he Switched it with a pair of trousers (who they belonged to, he'd never know), and though he was supposed to transfigure an owl into a pair of opera glasses, he somehow managed to turn it into a chaise lounge piled high with black leather grimoires.

Even Stebbins laughed.

That evening, Sirius was still a bit odd, (or rather, still odder than usual) so Severus took a potion to ease his stomach and went up to revise Ancient Runes in the library. He walked there with his wand in his hand, not about to put up with anyone laughing at him for yesterday's debacle. He found a place far away from the other revisers and set the wand on the table beside his textbook.

Not twenty minutes later, a black-clad body slid silently into the seat beside him. Severus didn't bother looking up. "Oh, honestly. I thought I told you I didn't want to talk about feelings. Should I have used smaller words?"

"Funny," Lily Evans replied, "I didn't realize Slytherin _had _feelings."

Severus dropped his quill, which left an inky mess on his notes.

"I do though," she told him. "Have feelings, I mean."

Severus's cheeks flamed. "I thought you were Black," he muttered stupidly. Evans had her hair pinned up again.

"Well, I can see how that could be confusing for you. The resemblance is quite striking," she made a sour face.

"Yes," Severus told her, willing his heart not to beat so quickly, "you're both unnecessarily altruistic and simple fools who ambush me while I'm trying to work because you can't stand the idea of me accomplishing something!"

"Look, I," Evans sighed, clasping her hands in her lap, "I don't want to argue about this."

"Well," Severus countered nastily, "what _do _you want to argue about?"

Evans snorted, and somehow made it sound delicate. "I just… it took me a while to figure it out, but… calling me what you did was a perfect distraction, and I'm sure it's the only thing your friends will be talking about, so… I'm still angry about what you said, but I understand. And I'm sorry, Snape."

Severus gaped.

"You don't have to worry, I won't tell anyone. You could call me a million nasty names, and I still wouldn't say a word about it. I promise. I know how awful Slytherin are, and it must be hard on you, so it'll be our secret. Alright?"

Severus shut his mouth with an audible snap and sucked in a breath. "What exactly do you think you know?" For a moment, he'd thought it was about the fact that the very thought of her made his throat tighten and heart do strange things in his chest, but that couldn't be it. If it were, wouldn't she be bragging about it instead of apologizing?

Evans sighed. "You think I'm bluffing, so you're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

Severus sniffed and crossed his arms.

Evans took a quick look around them and then leaned toward his ear. He was so distracted by her proximity, the way she smelled and the thought of her breath against his skin, that he nearly didn't hear the words she murmured into his ear.

"What did you say?" he whispered when they finally registered, entire body jolting with panic.

"I only just thought of it yesterday when… I realized that when James held up upside down, you…" she sighed again, and the look in her eyes was disconcertingly kind. "A Muggle-hating Slytherin pureblood wouldn't wear pants. They're a Muggle invention."

For a few moments, he just stared at her, mind blank and chest aching. He contemplated denying it, but there was no use. He was so stupid. He'd worked so hard to let no one know he was different, that he'd such a horrible, incurable flaw. A half-blood Slytherin was practically unheard of. Indecent. Against the very principles that Slytherin himself had stood for.

He'd done everything he could to hide it, and no one had ever figured it out before, not even Sirius. It wasn't as if he went around showing everyone his underpants! But now Evans, the prefect, the Gryffindor, the girl whose knickers tinted his every wank pink, knew of his shame. He was doomed.

"What do you want?" he finally whispered.

She shook her head. "I don't want anything. I was just saying--"

"Wait," he swore and raked his hands through his greasy hair. There had to be some way to fix this. "I'll-- Potions! It's your favourite class, right? You'd do anything to be the best, wouldn't you?"

Evans stared at him.

"Wait here," he ordered her. "Wait here, don't move an inch, don't talk to a soul until I, just-- be silent and stay put until I get back!" He all but ran from the room. Seven flights was a lot to climb at a full-out dash, but he took the stairs two at a time, praying no one of authority would spot him.

"I need a place to brew potions," he thought hurriedly, pacing in front of the trolls, and he nearly ripped the door off its hinges, slamming it behind him. Something obscure, obscure and useful… something big and impressive looking… ah! He pulled _Les splendeurs des potions perdues _off the shelf and tucked it under his arm.

Evans, because she was hopelessly infuriating, was standing just outside the library when he returned. He had to put his head between his knees for a moment to catch his breath. When she asked him if he was alright, he held out the book.

"What is this?"

"For… collateral," he puffed.

Evans made an affronted-sounding noise. "I said I wouldn't tell! You don't have to-- is this what I think it is?"

Severus wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. "If you like it… then yes. Keep it as… long as you like."

"But this is-- do you know how rare-- where did you--" She gasped as she opened the front cover. "It's annotated in English. Oh. Oh my God. Original printing, 1757. This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. How in the _world _did you…"

"I've more," Severus told her, feeling dazed. "Dozens. Hundreds!"

Her deep emerald eyes were wide as they met his.

"I'll bring you a new one whenever you want, if you promise… one more simple thing," he told her.

Evans shook her head. "What?"

"Hate me," he told her.

She blinked.

"Call me terrible names, invent the most awful lies, and make… every one of your little Gryffindor friends incensed by my very existence." He held up a hand to silence her when she began to protest. "I want it known I've no tolerance for your kind. We're enemies from birth, and this is the way it shall stay."

Evans mulled this over for a moment. "I'm not so sure I can hate you," she replied with a strikingly pensive gaze, "but for books like this, I can certainly put on a good show."

"You do that," he told her.

She clutched the book to her chest and smiled at him, the way Sirius did when Severus had just done something particularly brilliant. It was a smile of exhilaration, contentment, and just the smallest edge of awe. "Thanks, Severus."

Severus had been standing under a freezing cold shower for nearly ten minutes, Evans's voice repeating his name in his head over and over, before he realized he'd left his books, bag, and wand in the library.

* * *

"Sirius Black, you are a heartless, two-timing bastard," Severus muttered under his breath. 

"Maybe it's for the best," Aubrey told him. "After all, that sleeping-together thing you two do is… I mean, it was a bit odd when we were twelve, but now it's just disturbing. You should really go to bed."

Severus scowled and laid his cheek against the arm of the green leather chair he was sprawled in. His head hurt, and his stomach was churning. The clock above the mantel read 3 AM. "Can't."

"Look, I'm sure he's fine. He probably fell asleep under a table or… got caught pulling a prank, and we'll all hear a grand tale about it at the breakfast table. You can't sit in the common room all night."

Severus begged to differ. It was the last night before Summer Holiday, and Sirius always needed to sneak into his bed, always! He'd never survive the night without Severus's guidance!

Aubrey sighed. "Okay, I didn't want to say this, but since I'm your prefect and it's my duty to take care of you, if you really need to sleep with someone--"

"I do not _need _to sleep with someone, he does!" Severus snapped, disgusted at the mere thought. "Black has horrible, debilitating nightmares about Potter's grandfather that require special attention! If you'd seen the man, you'd understand!" The only thing that could keep Sirius away from safety was those bloody Gryffindors!

"It's late, Snape. He's not coming back toni--"

"And what about the boggarts? And the, the Humdingers? Those things can suck your liver out through your navel! Should I just abandon him? People can't live without livers, you imbecile!"

In the heavy silence that followed, Severus realized he was making no sense at all, and Aubrey was likely about to have him committed. He took a deep breath, but the frantic exhaustion remained. "I'm fine," he said decisively, feeling close to tears. "Just go to sleep already."

Aubrey sighed and mumbled something, awkwardly patting his leg, and left.

The next morning in the Great Hall, Sirius regaled them with a tale of espionage, Astronomy Towers, and damsels in distress, but Severus didn't listen. He dished Severus up a full plate of breakfast, but Severus didn't eat it. He insulted Potter to his face, but Severus didn't laugh. He saved Severus a place next to him on the Express, but Severus didn't sit with him.

Sirius Black had broken his promise.

Sirius Black was dead to him.


	6. INDIGESTION AND HAND ME DOWN ROBES

**Notes:** If you're interested in seeing Remus's point of view of several incidents from last chapter, check out my companion fic _Not __Kissing __Sirius __Black_. Tis teh cute puppiness.

CHAPTER 6: INDIGESTION AND HAND-ME-DOWN ROBES

Severus Snape had a stomach ache.

The Hogwarts Express was packed with excited students yelling greetings, showing off various squirming creatures, and otherwise carrying on, but Sirius Black was nowhere to be found. No one had seen him, not even Aubrey, whose snotty nose was always in everyone else's business.

When he left for hols, he'd sworn he'd never speak to Sirius again. He did, in fact, ignore Sirius's owls, lighting each letter on fire with a swift flick of a match as soon as it touched his fingers. It was only after he'd a half-dozen matchbooks lying on his floor that the owls stopped coming.

He'd been relieved at first, thinking Sirius had finally acknowledged the obvious fact that he was a horrible person and wasn't about to get a response. He realized too late that Sirius was far too dense to do any such thing and would've kept up writing if he'd had to hold the quill with his toes because his hands had been forcibly removed at the wrist.

Tossing his trunk in next to Aubrey's and muttering a few indistinct insults, Severus went in search of the missing Slytherin.

It was not, of course, because he cared. No one cared; Sirius was a lost cause. It was Severus's duty to retrieve him though, as he was very clearly the only one clever enough to have any chance of success. That, and the tiny little part of him that somehow still believed in heroics and saving people because his sanity depended upon it.

It was most decidedly NOT because Severus felt at all guilty. For anything. At all.

Ever.

It was a simple case of indigestion.

After what seemed like forever, as he was pushing through a trio of Hufflepuffs exchanging Chocolate Frog cards, Severus managed to find Regulus. "Where is your brother?" he demanded.

The boy gave him a haughty sneer and brushed his silky brown hair behind his ear. The light glinted off the heavy gold rings on his neatly-manicured fingers, and a nasty-looking boy beside him laughed. "You must be mistaken," Regulus replied. "I have no brother."

Severus would've hexed the little shite to within an inch of his life had the train not, at that very moment, jolted forward. The Hufflepuffs went flying, knocking Severus to the ground. By the time he'd righted himself, Regulus had gone, and Circe was bent in half beneath his knee. She did not look best pleased.

A boy with too-clear blue eyes offered his hand, and Severus was so flustered he actually allowed himself to be helped off the ground. "Don't worry," the boy told him, "I've another of her at home."

"Yes, because I was terribly concerned about the state of your collection," Severus said. It didn't make him feel much better though, being of distinctly substandard nastiness, so he swore and continued on his quest.

This is all Sirius's fault, he told himself, peeking his head into an empty compartment. He kicked angrily at the door and moved on. If only Sirius had listened to him just once, neither of them would be in this mess. They'd be sitting together turning Regulus's fancy new shoes to glue, laughing about this year's plans to destroy the House of Gryffindor. Well, Sirius would be laughing and he would be sneering, but still. That's how it had always been, and Sirius had to go and change things. Change was evil. What idiot didn't know that?

Apparently at least two idiots didn't, because Remus Lupin was wearing a new jumper and though a bit peaky, did not look as though he was knocking at death's door with a sledge hammer. Severus was highly offended.

"Ah, Snape," he began, "I have to, ah, the-- meeting, I…"

"Oh, spit it out, Lupin," Severus ordered. At least _that _hadn't changed.

Lupin sighed. "Please-- go sit with Sirius. He's, he's very upset, it's only reasonable after what he's been through, and I have to attend the…" he gestured as though the movement would loosen his tongue, "prefects meeting, and I don't think he should be, ah, _alone _at a time like this, so…"

Severus pulled his wand on the other boy. A time like _what_? "Where is he?"

Lupin held up his hands in acquiescence. "Two cars down, right-hand side, please just…"

Severus didn't hear the rest of the request, as he was already rushing down the corridor. He'd known something was wrong, he'd _known _it! Why in Merlin's name was he the only reasonable person left on the face of the earth? Madness!

He found Sirius where Lupin had said, sitting alone in a compartment. Severus threw open the doors and nearly dropped his wand.

Sirius's usually glossy black hair hung in unkempt tangles around his face, and his plain black robes were torn and dirtied. He had a long, improperly-healed gash on one of his hands, and when Severus stepped closer, he saw that his face was also cut in a number of places, as though he'd fallen face-first into a thorn bush. His eyes were swollen and tired.

Severus's throat felt dry like brittle, cracking leaves. "I burned your letters," he murmured.

Sirius nodded minutely and turned to look out the window. The side of his neck was thin and dirty.

Severus slid down into the seat across from him. Words were, for once in his life, entirely inadequate. He felt as though he would be immediately sick. He couldn't be though, not now, so he swallowed hard and looked down at the wand in his white-fingered hand.

The Express's whistle blew, and Sirius sighed. It was a long, tired sound. "I ran away," he said in a quiet voice. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but didn't. It was frightening, and hurtful.

"This is all your fault," Severus informed him, as offence was always the best defence. "The last night, you didn't come, and you always come, and I was _worried_, and you'd no right…" His stomach gurgled and he pressed a hand to it. "This is all your fault. Yours. Don't you dare blame me, you horrible ingrate!"

Sirius shook his head. "I ran _away_! For real this time, for ever and ever. Just like that! I had to. If you'd seen what… I owled you so many times, but…"

"You were not supposed to be gone. You were supposed to do like you've always done, and be where I know you're safe, not, not _marauding _with-- with…" Severus found that his fingers had dug into his hair, and he pulled at it so hard it hurt. "You were supposed to be with me! Talking to _me_, laughing with _me_, sleeping with _me_!"

Sirius looked at him strangely and then laughed. It was an unwelcome, harsh sound cutting through the gentle puffing of the locomotive. "You heartlessly ignore me and burn every one of my letters all summer long because, what, I didn't sleep with you? You're serious? What are you Snape, some sort of, of… poof?"

Severus blinked.

He thought back on all the times he'd curled up with Sirius in his bed, their arms around each other and legs entangled, and the warmth it made him feel. He thought of the way Sirius smiled and laughed and nuzzled his nose against Severus's neck and sometimes pressed his lips into that spot just below his ear, and how it sent odd tingles through him. How _alone _he'd been that night without him.

"Well?" Sirius prompted.

Then he thought of Lily Evans.

"No," Severus answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and wanting to bang his head against the nearest solid object. "Most decidedly not."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, well I… I knew that, actually." He bit his cracked lip and looked at his feet. One of his toes poked through a ragged and torn shoe. "Did you know… I mean… you know, right? You _must _know because… because you do. About… me, you know. Right?"

Severus said nothing. He had the intensely unnerving notion that he knew in exacting detail what Sirius was not so subtly hinting at. It made his brain feel vaguely numb, and really, what was there to say?

"It's not my _fault_," Sirius insisted, as though Severus had lodged a formal protest before the Wizengamot. "It's just how I am and I'm trying to respect your feelings even if you say you don't have them, and you can't get all sulky and ignore me like you've done all summer because this is _not _my _fault_!"

Severus realized he was still holding his wand and put it back in his pocket. "You're an idiot," he announced.

Sirius regarded him warily. "Is that a 'You're an idiot and I'm never speaking to you again, you _freak_' kind of 'You're an idiot,' or just the usual kind?"

Severus shrugged. "The usual, I suppose. Though you _are _a freak, and I'm fairly sure I've told you this from the beginning. Why should it matter to you _now_?"

Sirius smiled, and it looked brittle upon his face, but real. After a moment, it faded, and Sirius turned to look out the window again. "I'm so hungry, I could eat flobberworms. Remus is bringing me food… how long does that bloody meeting take, anyway?"

Severus sighed. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all, but here it was, and it was all he had. He distracted himself from thinking excessively about Sirius's unredeemable deviant betrayal by wishing the Gryffindors would just hurry up already and drop off the face of the earth. They'd clearly been placed there for the sole purpose of causing him unending woe and misery. Bringing him food, indeed!

When Lupin came back with a half dozen pumpkin pasties, Sirius's eyes lit up, and Severus felt a bit ashamed for reasons he couldn't quite explain. "I am so glad to see you, I could spit!" Sirius exclaimed.

Lupin eyed Severus and smiled a bit nervously as he handed the treats over.

"Here, sit sit," Sirius told him, patting the space beside him. He threw a pasty at Severus, who would've preferred a liquorice wand but couldn't really afford to be picky at this point. Sirius then pressed one of the pasties back into Lupin's hand, saying pointedly that he "needed to keep his strength up." Lupin turned an odd colour at this but took it nonetheless.

Though it did little to ease his stomach ache, the disgruntled organ now emitting strange burbling noises, it was the best thing Severus had had in months. He savoured his pasty, running his tongue over it in his mouth as the lush green countryside glided past them outside the window. Licking the last bit of taste from the wrapper, he watched Sirius's hand smooth at the hair on the back of Lupin's neck. Lupin sighed and leaned his cheek against Sirius's shoulder, his pasty sitting uneaten in his lap. Sirius kissed the top of his head.

Things were strange now.

Well, things had always been strange, but now they were… still strange, but strange in an entirely new way that Severus was really not in favour of. But then when had anything Severus wanted ever mattered? Never, Severus affirmed, looking back out the window. Nothing he'd ever wanted had ever mattered to anyone at all. He'd always suspected so, and it had just been made abundantly clear.

It could've been minutes, or hours, when he turned his gaze toward Sirius again and found him asleep with his head pillowed in Lupin's lap. "Rather melodramatic, don't you think?" Severus asked.

Lupin looked up from the crumpled piece of parchment he was examining. "Beg pardon?"

"You know, if I'd been the one to run away, I certainly wouldn't've ended up like _that_." He motioned toward Sirius's pathetic sleeping form. "He's filthy, injured, and he looks as though he hasn't eaten properly in weeks. Hardly a sterling example of Slytherin survival instincts. You Gryffindors have surely tainted him."

Lupin smiled softly down at the boy. "It's not his fault he can't do anything halfway. It's just… how he is."

Severus wanted to snap, Don't you dare try and tell me how Sirius Black is! but he manfully held his tongue. "What is that blasted paper," he demanded instead.

Lupin blinked and fidgeted a bit. "Oh. Oh, it's… you know, just planning, ah, classes for the year. OWLs and… essential to be well prepared, don't you think?"

Severus said nothing and pulled his own OWL examination results from his pocket. He opened the neatly folded parchment with a sharp flick of his wrist. The vile, eye-searing A in Transfiguration nearly leapt off the page at him. He steadfastly ignored it though, barely even wincing. After all, how could he be expected to excel in a class taught by the Head of the House of Gryffindor?

After a lengthy period of consideration back in July, Severus had elected to hold off on any definite schedule decisions. Thus, he could wait and give Sirius a sound talking to about his behaviour and then sign them both up for all the same classes. Because of this, Severus had only spent a few hours per day contemplating his proper academic path (and lamenting that parchment-disfiguring A). He was loathe to think someone from the house of Gryffindor, those paragons of hasty, split-second decisions, might be better prepared. "You'll need your Head of House's approval, you know."

Lupin looked baffled for a moment and then shook his head. "I've already done. This is Sirius's."

The look Severus shot him must've been of particular brilliance because Lupin turned a heretofore unseen greenish shade as Severus eased the parchment from his sweaty fingers. It was, of course, what he'd expected: a sea of O's with tiny bits of E's poking out as though fighting for their lives against the current. He was, however, disgusted to see that one of those E's was in DADA. It took all the self-restraint he possessed not to strike the lightly snoring Sirius soundly upside his fool head.

He must've hissed something exceptionally caustic from between his clenched teeth because Lupin was suddenly making odd noises. Severus glared at him.

"It's not… you see he was… James had, I mean to say, he's most certainly not a bad person, he's really very kind, but he sometimes gets these… notions-- he wasn't disciplined as a child, you see, and when he acts out it's really just a-- he simply can't abide by-- ah, right! Point! The point, getting there, yes! Well, Sirius was just so, so upset he could scarcely, you know, concentrate on the examination, all he could think of was, well you know how he gets when he's like that, all angry and, and _shining_, but he told me he really does like Defence Against the Dark Arts, wants to take it this year--"

"Well of course he does!" Severus interrupted, feeling irritated and, frankly, rather exhausted. What a concept, _not _wanting to take DADA!

"I was just-- you see-- he asked me to… so that we might have classes together…" he finished weakly.

Severus snorted. Remus Lupin schedule classes for Sirius Black? A Gryffindor dictate to a Slytherin? Over his dead body!

Lupin seemed to care little about such situations of life and death though, because he was, for some inexplicable reason, pulling his _own_ examination results from his pocket. Severus was about to erupt in a fit that might've put all his previous rages to shame when Lupin, in his disjointed, sickly way, made a comment that gave him pause. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, I… ah, DADA, it's just such a fascinating subject, but… you know, that professor third year, well I'd bet my wand he couldn't pass an OWL himself. Pity no decent witch or wizard will ever take the position… been like that for years, even in my father's time… imagine what we'd learn if someone actually _taught _us…"

"Teaching?" Severus sneered. "Is THAT what they're supposed to be doing?"

Lupin laughed and petted Sirius's hair. "Rather a guessing game, isn't it? I reckon our time would've been better spent just, well, _reading _about DADA. No one… no one _reads _anymore these days, I-- hardly anyone even reads the _texts_, and… you know, I came across the most fascinating article on Acromantula in-- well, I found this old journal…"

"Acromantula? Have you read Hedon's thesis on them? Brilliant creatures, it's a shame one of them managed to eviscerate him before had the chance to finish his work." Severus snorted. "Imagine the wealth of knowledge lost to shoddy research methods!"

Lupin nodded emphatically in agreement. his pallid face lit with excitement. "Oh, I nearly-- well, I could've _wept _when I reached the end! Imagine if he _had _detailed their mating rituals! And have you heard-- there's this rumour about a lost colony…"

And that was the beginning of the end, really. While it was true that Lupin was his least hated Gryffindor, he'd never endeavoured to do more than tolerate him. This conversing, exchanging ideas in such an educated and adult way, was shockingly welcome.

Severus was entirely disgusted when Sirius finally decided to wake, and Lupin abandoned the conversation to heal some of his cuts, Scourgify his robes, and partially mend his shoe. He seemed particularly skilled at such spells. Must Sirius always ruin everything?

"You do look a mess, Sirius," Lupin told him in a world-weary tone, having forgotten Acromantula entirely. "However you manage such things, I shall never fathom…"

Severus snapped. "He _manages __such __things _because he is an imbecile of the absolute highest order. Just when I think I've seen his worst, he sinks to new lows. Just look at him-- his own family doesn't even want him anymore! Imagine what a pathetic, worthless creature could end up tossed out on the streets by his own kin… and begging his impoverished classmates for scraps of food! His mother would've done well to have smothered him at birth!"

Severus took the resultant and expected smothering embrace with practiced stoicism, gagged at the tongue slurping at his face, and felt the last of the summer's strain ebb from his body. Even his stomach was soothed.

This time, Sirius curled up in HIS lap. Leaning his head back against the seat, Severus relaxed to the sound of Sirius's audacious account of marauding about London for the past month, interspersed with Lupin's stuttery exclamations of shock. Severus invented any number of choice insults as he drifted off to sleep.

Perhaps, he thought as the overwhelming drowsiness overtook him, things hadn't really changed after all.

Soon enough, he saw how mistaken he was.

When he awoke, Lupin had gone, and he and Sirius went back to retrieve his luggage. Instead of the warmly snide welcome they would've received, all conversation ceased when they entered Aubrey's compartment.

"Black," Aubrey acknowledged with a bit of a perfunctory nod. The other Slytherins stared warily, looking a bit itchy in their new school clothes. Severus clumsily pulled down his trunk.

Someone coughed.

"Oh, so how was your summer, Sirius?" Sirius asked himself loudly when no one else did. "Brilliant," he responded. "Had a smashing time in London. And you?"

Silence filled the cabin.

Aubrey nodded again. "It was ah, fine."

"Well," Sirius responded, "then I suppose it wasn't as nice as mine." And with a flourish of his semi-mended robes, he escorted Severus into the corridor.

Things were even worse in the Great Hall. After the Sorting Hat had sung its tuneless song, dinner had been eaten, and Potter had been hit in the head with a mysterious flying goblet, Dumbledore himself called Sirius aside to speak with him. Severus didn't know what it was-- perhaps the simple fact that Sirius still had dirt on the back of his neck-- but he left the Hall alone and with a heavy heart.

* * *

"Snape!"

Lily Evans's voice rang out from across the crowded corridor, and Severus winced. He'd managed not to look at the Gryffindor table even once during the start-of-term Feast, hoping to avoid just this sort of thing. If he didn't see her, all he had was his memory, and memories faded, they had to, it was the nature of the human mind.

"Snape, wait up!"

"I don't have time for any of your Gryffindor games today, Evans. Leave me in peace," he ordered her, pointedly not looking. Because Sirius wasn't here to cover for him, and _his _memories hadn't faded.

"It's not a game! If you could-- oh, watch the staircase dear, they do sometimes move. Good girl, now up to the Tower with you, run along. Ah-- Snape!"

He felt rather than saw her approach with something like a sixth sense, his eyes to the floor on the toes of his worn shoes. He kept walking. He would not give in. She'd promised to hate him. She'd seen him hung upside down in nothing but his pants. He would ignore her.

"Please! It's the book, the one you lent me, it-- it's disappeared! Severus--"

"I thought we had a DEAL!" he spat, and if his gaze were truly as fiery as it felt, his shoes would be smouldering. Instead, they were merely uncomfortable, as his feet had grown over the summer.

"I'd only read the first half, and I didn't want anyone to find it, so I hid it in the bottom of my trunk--"

"Evans!" he warned.

"--but when I opened my trunk at home, it was gone, just _gone_, and I know I should've kept a better eye on it while I was on the Express, but there's just no way anyone could've touched it--"

He turned toward her, seething at her Gryffindor irresponsibility. He was nevertheless pleased with the dramatic way his robes swirled around his legs at the motion. "And why, pray tell, is that, Evans?"

She blinked. "Well if you must know, it's because I charmed my chest shut and wrapped the book in my underthings."

Severus gaped.

"It was failsafe, the thing just disappeared! Please tell me you know where it went…"

She was more beautiful than he'd remembered. Everything about her was sharper, more brilliant, as though before she'd been but a reflection upon the surface of the water, and only now had he looked up to behold the true being. The soft fall of her glossy hair, the evening light shining off her flushed skin, the flash of her emerald eyes, it was the single most vivid sight he'd ever beheld.

"…I feel truly awful, but I took every precaution… you can't know how much I treasured that book, I've never seen it's like…"

He'd never thought he'd escaped her enchantment, but at some point that had ceased to matter. Summer was not like his time at Hogwarts. During the summer, in his stifling little upstairs room in Spinner's End, surviving was all that mattered. If the only thing that saved him from insanity while staring out over an old book at his ash-littered floor was the thought of Lily Evans, then so be it. If he fell into a feverish sleep each night with the thought of her soft body beside his, there was no shame in it.

"… and you said you had more of them, hundreds of potions books…"

But it was different now.

"…honestly, Severus, I'd do anything…"

And Severus knew that he was about to do an awful, irredeemable thing.

"Come with me," he said.

She protested at first when he grabbed her arm and pulled her forcibly toward the stairs. Her robe-clad skin was warm beneath his fingers. They scaled flight after flight of stairs with no one there to stop them, as the others were safe and sound in their Houses and not about to make the biggest mistake of their lives.

When they reached the seventh floor, Evans finally wrenched herself from his grasp. "You had better explain to me where we're going," she began, though she still followed.

He threw her a disgusted look over his shoulder, feet hitting the cool stone floor a bit stiffly. "I thought you wanted books."

"There are no books on this floor save those in our dormitory. I've walked these hallways hundreds of times, and I guarantee you, there's nothing here," she informed him irritably. "Now explain yourself."

"Perhaps," Severus suggested, coming to a halt, "you just don't know where to look. Now close your eyes, it won't work if you watch."

She eyed him warily, and he noted she had her hand in her pocket, undoubtedly on her wand.

Severus rolled his eyes and did a poor job of not contemplating her unclothed. "Oh honestly, Evans. If I wanted to take advantage of you, I'd… well, I'd simply steal your Arithmancy notes. Now turn toward idiot Barnaby and shut your eyes, and you'll have your precious books."

He wasn't entirely sure the door would appear, and even if it did, whether Evans would be able to see it. Perhaps it would be locked to all but him. He walked his usual path, trying his hardest to chant properly and not think of Evans standing there with her back to him, Trolls pirouetting before her delicately closed eyes.

Severus let out a sigh of relief when the door appeared in the usual place in all its archaic glory. His hand on the handle, it opened easily. "After you," he said, and motioned for Evans to enter.

She blinked. "That just-- that wasn't there before."

"It's called magic. Perhaps you've heard of it. Coming?"

He didn't blame her for her hesitation. After all, if he were Evans, he wouldn't be too keen on the possibility of getting locked inside a magic room with himself either. "Funny, I'd heard Gryffindors were brave."

She wasn't listening to him though. She was peering into his lab, his private place he'd sworn to reveal to no one, and she had an absolutely delighted look on her face. "Marvellous!" she declared.

Severus snorted and shut the door behind them. She'd always had a nice smile.

"It's perfect! Everything we need! There are cauldrons and knives and-- look! Two chairs for when we-- oh. Oh. I-- I'm dreaming. Really, I… oh. My. God…" She was staring open-mouthed at the wall of books, looking as though she'd just discovered the answers to all the secrets of the universe.

"What an exciting life you must lead, Evans," Severus said cuttingly. He stared blankly at the two soft chairs by the window, where before there had always only been one. Then he stared at Evans.

Evans wouldn't've noticed if an erumpent had stampeded through the room. She was reading out titles and authors as though they were long lost friends, running her fingers over the spines. Severus wondered if this was what he'd been like the first time. He would've been glad no one had been there to witness his discovery had he been able to contemplate anything but Evans.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. The book, _Les __splendeurs __des __potions __perdues_, it's here! It must've come back when I tried to take it too far away, I haven't lost it at all!"

"Lucky you!" Severus declared, turning up his nose in disgust both at her and himself.

Evans beamed at him, the book clutched to her chest as a small girl might hold a beloved doll. "No," she said, eyes sparkling in a way that made Severus's heart skip a beat, "lucky _us_!"

* * *

"I am an idiot. Explain to me why I'm such an idiot, Severus!" Sirius demanded.

"Because you were born lacking a significant and necessary portion of your brain," Severus answered. "And you keep smelling my feet."

Sirius snorted. "I am most certainly NOT smelling your feet."

Severus eyed the other boy, whose ankles were crossed on the pillow beside Severus's ear and nose was pressed against the arch of his foot.

"What I'm doing is smelling your SOCKS!" Sirius announced in an annoyed tone.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Because that makes so much more sense. I feel enlightened. I truly do. Why are you an idiot _this _time?"

Sirius sighed. "Have you ever read this book?"

Severus blinked down at the small volume Sirius held before him. "Where in Merlin's name did you come across such a thing?"

Sirius hid his eyes and mumbled something into Severus's sock.

Severus was shocked. "I know this book. It's a Muggle book. You're reading a Muggle book! And you don't even read!"

Sirius allowed the offending article to be tugged from his hand. "I didn't mean to! I just asked… you know, Moony's always reading. Not things like you read, though he sometimes reads those too… but it's like it's this… this sort of… I don't know… so I asked him if he had anything in his trunk I might like, I wasn't even serious about it, well sort of but not really, and he gives me this. There's no way I can ever read this thing, your socks smell delicious, and my life is OVER!"

"If I had a knut for every time your life ended," Severus responded, "I'd buy you some decent robes. And a haircut. And your own books. And perhaps your own country far, far away from here so that I might never again be obligated to listen to your pitiable whinging. Pathetic."

Sirius managed to pull his nose far enough away from Severus's foot to shoot him a piteous-looking pout. "Couldn't you just read it and tell me what happens? Please, Severus? Just this once? I'm really in a bad place here…"

Severus sighed, opened the book, and wished it weren't so true. Who would ever have guessed that Sirius Black, eldest son of one of the wealthiest and most renowned Wizarding families of all of Britain, would be reduced to hand-me-down robes and cast-off textbooks? Not to mention the fact that since Sirius had been disinherited, half of Slytherin House refused to go anywhere near him, calling him a Blood Traitor, and worse. Sirius laughed at them and hexed them all the more, but all this seemed to get him was extra detentions.

It was so much harder for Sirius's natural charm to show through threadbare elbows and yellowed collars. Being poor wasn't easy, and Severus wished he could do something, anything, to spare Sirius the pain of it.

Severus clapped the book shut. "Not on your life, Black, no matter how soon it may be coming to its tedious conclusion. You've made your bed, now lie in it."

"Actually," Sirius said, snuffling at his toes, "I'd rather lie in yours. Or, you know, Moony's. By the way, any good spells for getting chocolate out of sheets?"

Severus then threw the book at Sirius, covered his body in particularly painful boils and resolved never to speak to Remus Lupin again.

His resolve was broken the very next morning in DADA when Lupin brought up the subject of lethifolds.

It was an unusual year, to say the least. Now that they'd all chosen their own classes based upon OWL grades, those of inferior intellect had been (at least in some cases) weeded out. It was a great relief. Sirius and Severus had every class together save History of Magic, which Sirius flatly refused to sign up for. "History of Magic is useless, and Binns is as good as a Sleeping Draught. I'm taking Astronomy instead. It's good for sneaking out after," he reasoned. "Also, Potter's taking Astronomy, and as you know, I've devoted my life to making his a living Hell."

Luckily Lupin, while he had been horrendous at Potions, was quite adequate in History of Magic. The class was small and comprised primarily of students Severus didn't know, so they occasionally sat beside each other. Once in a blue moon, they even went to the library and compared notes on the finer points of the Goblin Wars or lobalugs. If the other boy hadn't been such an oddly pasty, quasi-inarticulate Gryffindor, Severus might've said they were on friendly terms, despite all the reproachable things Severus was quite sure he did in his spare time. In fact, when Lupin was ill, Severus actually almost missed his presence.

Though that could've been Sirius's doing.

"I don't UNDERSTAND!" Sirius would lament. "If he's sick, why doesn't he just TELL me? I could HELP him, Severus! I'd be so very gentle and helpful and fluff his pillows and fix him tea and fetch him books and write all his essays out for him to spare his weak fingers and not even ATTEMPT to take advantage… well, maybe just a little, but…"

Severus was undecided as to whether to dub these tirades Lupin Lectures or Remus Rampages, or maybe even The Great Moony Madness. In any case, they tended to result in a splitting headache for Severus and a nice, sound curse for Sirius. In fact, their dorm mates got rather used to stepping over Sirius's Full-Body-Bound form as they made their way to their beds at night. Of course, considering they were pretending he didn't exist anyway, it couldn't've been much effort.

However, by far the most unusual part of Sixth Year though was Potions with Lily Evans.

It wasn't so much class itself. That was interesting, and he had a growing esteem not only for Evans's natural talent in the subject, but also for the quantity and calibre of sincerely nasty glares she managed to shoot him whenever he outdid her, which was now more and more often. Professor Slughorn failed to notice the glares but did take note of the growing rivalry between his two best students.

Days before Lupin's fourth and most noteworthy absence, was Severus's most triumphant endeavour to date.

They'd been preparing standard wound-cleaning potion, a very difficult thing to brew without assistance. Instead of rushing to finish first as he usually did, Severus took his time. A botched potion last year filled with what looked like swirls of frog intestines had taught him his lesson. He was only just stirring in the essence of dittany when Evans declared her potion finished.

"Very quick work, Miss Evans," Slughorn told her, peering down into her purplish compound, "but if you'd only been a bit more cautious with your mixing, it would've turned out much smoother. Perhaps the entire class should take a few notes from Mr Snape here, who's made sure everything has properly congealed before adding in his…"

Snape had smiled nastily, Evans had glowered, and Sirius had used the distraction to sprinkle dirt into Potter's cauldron. Class was great fun. The best part about Potions with Lily Evans though, was what took place outside of class.

Severus's private lab had quickly become theirs, and they met together three or four times each week. He wouldn't tell her how to open the room herself, as she might get ideas on how to bar him from entry. Perhaps conjure a lock for the door. Gryffindors could not be trusted, after all. Once inside though, they contentedly read, experimented, and argued. He had thought being in her presence would be difficult for any number of uncomfortable reasons, but it turned out anything but. In fact, they both drove each other pleasantly mad.

"I should've known there was some reason you were working so slowly. You know, you could've told me," she informed him that evening, an irritated look on her face.

"Well, that wouldn't've been very much fun now, would it have?" he retorted.

"I thought the idea of us studying together was to exchange ideas and help each other learn and grow, Severus," she told him.

"Then you are quite naïve," he told her, biting into the apple she'd brought him. It made him wonder where Sirius was. On second though, he probably didn't want to know.

Evans sighed and regarded him with a look he'd seen on Sirius several times but had never quite been able to place. "I know." And then she began chopping daisy roots.

Severus looked her up and down and decided to put their supply of unicorn hair to good use before Evans wasted it all on fruitless experimentation in classic Gryffindor style.

Twenty minutes later, the unicorn hair was evenly divided into half-inch sections, Evans was stirring a burbling brownish potion, and Severus was perplexed. "What in Merlin's name is that monstrosity, Evans?"

"Sticking solution," she told him, "to glue your mouth shut."

Severus blinked. "You're joking."

"Yes," she responded.

Severus set down his knife, packed his books into his bag, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

He felt sick all night and the better part of the next day. He didn't bother going to class or meals, instead electing to stay in bed and read. Sirius was ill at ease and lay on his bed alternately gazing across at Severus and staring glassy-eyed at random pages of the Muggle book Lupin had given him.

After lengthy consideration, Severus felt he might be well enough to meet with Evans that night. He was about to brace himself for the arduous trek to the seventh floor when a hugely disgruntled noise came from Sirius's bed. Severus would've ignored it, had it not been followed by a barrage of choice curse words that piqued his interest. Setting his light reading, _A __Quintessential __Quintillion __of __Arithmantic __Principles_ down on his dresser, he went to investigate.

Sirius was bent over his old enchanted map of Hogwarts, his too-short robes pulling up to reveal a pair of knobby green socks, cursing steadily at the galleon creeping its way toward the Quidditch Pitch. "That _bastard_! He told me if I learned, they'd take me with them! That was part of the deal! That Potter, I'll fucking _kill _him!" he declared before lapsing back into incomprehensibility and hair pulling.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure Potter's having no end of illicit enjoyment playing Quidditch alone at dusk. I can't believe he still has that galleon. He'll probably stray toward the Forbidden Forest and be eaten by ogres. Have you read that book yet? Might be too hard for you, I read it when I was ten."

"Don't try and change the subject, Severus! Potter and Pettigrew are off marauding without me, which is specifically forbidden by the rules of our contract!" Sirius fumed. "And Moony's feeling terribly ill today, I'm sure they left him languishing all alone, it just goes to show what a poor excuse for wizards and Englishmen Gryffindors are. I KNEW I should've made Potter swear an Unbreakable Oath!"

"Look, if it's so important, why don't you go out and follow them? It's not even past curfew yet, you imbecile," Severus informed him, though why anyone would want to follow Gryffindors around was beyond him.

"Fine," Sirius spat. "Fine! You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to go out and follow them!"

Severus rolled his eyes.

"And then I'm going to bite Potter's stupid nose off!"

"Oh, by all means," Severus told him as the other boy made faint growling noises, snatched Stebbins's good cloak and pounded furiously out of the room. Severus noticed he'd left the map on his bed and snatched the galleon up from it. It felt nice and heavy in his pocket.

Finders, keepers, after all.

Evans was innocently studying Barnaby's unique training regime when Severus arrived. She eyed him anxiously, and after settling the accustomed flip his stomach made upon seeing her, he wasted no time in conjuring the room.

"Feeling better?" she asked him once inside, setting her bag and a roast chicken sandwich down on the table.

Severus rolled his eyes. He could kill for that sandwich.

"No, I'm serious! You should really see a doctor, you've a terribly weak constitution." She pulled a roll of parchment from her bag and unrolled it.

Severus hated when she was right, and he scowled at the inappropriate amount of wrist she showed in doing so.

Evans ignored this. "I made babbling beverage. Here," she said, holding out a glass of something truly vile-looking. He guessed it was what she'd been brewing yesterday.

"I can't imagine what possible purpose you would have for that, Evans," he declared, and snatched the sandwich off the table. "You Gryffindors babble merely thinking,"

Evans shrugged and took a sip herself. "Is it working?" she asked.

"Apparently, considering you've been incomprehensible to me since the first day I met you. Do you gargle with that mornings?"

She stuck out her tongue, took another sip, and handed him the rest.

He was indescribably glad he hadn't tested the potion on an empty stomach. Babbling Beverage was no pumpkin juice. It had a bitter aftertaste, and even mixed with the chicken, it made Severus's insides sloshy and uncomfortable. Fermented pumpkin juice maybe, he thought, and made a face. Evans seemed to be faring no better and was wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as though trying to rid herself of the taste.

"This is vile," he announced. It came out, "Piggledy poggle-wash."

Evans blinked at him. "Bar fly linoleum flowers?"

Severus looked down at the remains of the nauseous brownish liquid clinging to the bottom of his tumbler. "This is the most pointless and foul-tasting potion I've ever had the misfortune of imbibing," he announced. It sounded more like "sprongity springy besides willy-nilly callowmallow and kerfluity newsprint."

Evan's threw him a look. "Pillow bottom bevels," she said, and pointed at her notebook. "And cow tongue moonstone in the right nightlight."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Brim boy-kind, perhaps." This was, hands down, his least favourite potion ever.

"Flower freckles," she retorted, jabbing at the notebook with her index finger. "Kerplunk!"

"Pernickety," he announced with a dismissive wave of his hand as she dipped her quill and began to write. Really, this was just repulsive. He'd've had better luck had he gone chasing Gryffindors with Sirius.

_My name is Lily Evans_, Evans wrote, and smiled. _You see, the potion is only focused on verbal ability. Isn't it fascinating?_

Severus grabbed her quill. _How __long __will __these __fascinating __effects __last, __pray __tell?_

Evans shrugged and wrote, _We __should __be __back __to __normal __by __tomorrow __morning. _She paused. _Probably._

_I hate you_, Severus wrote, feeling distinctly ill again. _I hate you so much it hurts in my teeth_. And he got up to leave.

Evans made a strange noise. "Burberry job hiking tassels!" she exclaimed, and pointed at the paper. She began writing something in hurried script. "The Minister. The _Minister_!"

He snorted and continued on his way.

"With Kilimanjaro boat hinge blocks!" she insisted, holding the paper out to him, but he ignored it.

"I'm going to go back to my room and pretend this never happened," he told her. Merlin himself couldn't've deciphered what actually came out of his mouth.

He was terribly upset when he got back to his dormitory and remembered that Sirius had gone. Kicking and babbling loudly at his bedstead helped a little. When Sirius still wasn't back by midnight, he set fire to the old map. It didn't help as much as he'd expected.

It was after one, and Severus was fitfully dozing when he heard someone enter the room. There were a few loud clunks, and Severus pulled the edges of his pillow up over his ears. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Severus," came the customary whisper. "Severus, budge over."

He groaned and shifted to his left as Sirius crawled in beside him. "One of these nights, you're going to get caught," Severus murmured, wrapping an arm around the other boy.

"I got caught, that's why I'm so late," Sirius whispered back, sounding unusually frantic. "Detention for a week."

Severus snorted. "Why you would risk such things to trail behind a couple of good-for-nothing Gryffindors--"

"Moony's sick," Sirius interrupted. "Very, very sick."

"Lupin's _always _sick," Severus told him.

"No," Sirius whispered, mouth so close to Severus's ear that his breath puffed against his skin, "you don't understand. He's _really _sick, Severus."

"What, have they sent him home?" Severus asked.

"Severus…" It was barely a whisper, and Sirius was holding him so tightly he thought his ribs might break.

"Sirius!" Severus protested, trying to squeeze out of the embrace.

The noise Sirius made stopped him. It sounded like something choking, and Severus felt Sirius's chest hitch. "Sirius, what…"

And then there were tears dripping across Severus's cheek. The noises became full sobs, and Sirius shook against him, murmuring things Severus didn't understand into his neck.

"What's going on?" a sleepy voice asked from across the room. "Is that you, Snape?"

Severus swore and somehow managed to ease an arm out to his bedside stand, where his wand was laying. "It's nothing," he responded, feeling about the clutter of books and parchment for the cool wooden shaft.

"Huh?" the voice asked.

Fingers finally locating the implement, he responded, "I'm fine, go back to sleep," and cast Muffliato.

"Moony… Moony, Moony," Sirius said over and over, the words catching on his sobs. Severus did his best to shush him, but it was a long time before he managed to calm him down enough to reach the Calming Draught in his top drawer.

"Drink this," he told Sirius quietly, pressing the glass to his lips, "you'll feel better. You can go see your Moony in the morning."

Sirius coughed a bit but managed to get most of the potion down, and within minutes, he was laying peacefully beside Severus, his hands stroking at his own hair as a small child might do with a blanket. "Now go to sleep," Severus instructed, "or do you need a Sleeping Draught as well?"

Sirius seemed not to have heard. "You're all I have left," he said in a quiet voice.

"Nonsense," Severus told him, frightened by his tone.

Sirius sniffed. "You know, sometimes I wonder why I was even born at all."

Severus sighed. "Stop being stupid. It's because your father couldn't keep it in his pants, of course. Though considering what I've heard about your mother, I wonder about the man's sanity…"

Sirius ran a lock of hair across his lips. "You might be the only thing in my life that's ever made any sense, Severus. And I love you so much for it," he said. In seconds, he was asleep.

Severus tipped the few remaining drops of potion into his own mouth and replaced the flask in his drawer. He'd have to make more tomorrow night when he met with Evans, given she didn't have any other strange experiments to test on him.

It was then that he realized that through his entire conversation with Sirius, he hadn't said a single coherent word. He sighed and kissed Sirius softly on the forehead, which felt clammy and maybe the slightest bit feverish. If only you had long red hair, green eyes, and really amazing breasts, Severus thought.

And then he fell asleep.


	7. THE SLUG CLUB AND BLUEBERRY MUFFINS

**Notes:** More homage being paid to Shoebox Project, spot it if you can! Also, after finding out the birthdates for James and Lily in DH, I realize that I've made my characters a year too old, so my lunar chart is off. So sorry!

CHAPTER 7: THE SLUG CLUB AND BLUEBERRY MUFFINS

"I'd really love to wear green, to match my eyes, you know, but do you think it's too Slytherin?" Evans asked, the scratching sound of her quill halting.

"For what?" Severus asked, not bothering to look up from his Potions essay. He'd already rewritten it several times and was in no mood to do so again.

He heard her set down her quill. "Well, for the party, of course. What else?"

Severus snorted. "Of course. The party."

"Mary says it's fine, green is a perfectly functional Christmas colour, and the Gryffindor red does clash so with my hair. If you saw me in green, a very nice set of dress robes, shiny maybe, what would you think of me? From a Slytherin point of view, I mean," she asked.

I would think of you naked, he thought. "Not green," he answered.

Evans sighed. "Of course not. Not green." And she went back to writing.

Five minutes and a half a crossed-out paragraph later, Severus threw down his quill. "All right, I'll bite. What party?"

Evans stared at him. "What do you mean, _what __party_? Surely you've been invited!"

"Surely you have, once and for all, lost your marbles," Severus retorted. "Perhaps they've been Banished. To Nepal. Who would invite _me_ to a party?"

Evans gaped. "Professor Slughorn, of course! He hasn't invited you? That's… ludicrous!"

"Oh," Severus rolled his eyes, "THAT party."

He'd heard of it every year from Sirius, the Slug Club Christmas Party. It was but one of the many times the Potions Professor showed off his best and brightest to anyone of any influence who'd consider viewing them. Sirius went primarily to cause mischief and never failed to come back with an interesting story or two. But this year, Sirius wasn't talking about it. In fact, since last month, Sirius hadn't been saying much of anything to anyone. He'd even missed Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw.

And Lupin hadn't revised in the library with Severus, not even once.

"I can't wait," Evans told him, smiling as though promised some great treat. "I love Christmas! All the decorations-- the holly and the tinsel, and the great trees with their shining ornaments-- and don't forget the mistletoe! That's always good for a laugh, don't you think so, Severus?"

"Hysterical," he deadpanned. "I hate Christmas."

"Oh, you can't mean that!"

"Yes," he responded, recalling the yearly lethal glares he received when caught under mistletoe anywhere near a girl (and a particular year when their cracked Headmaster had charmed it to bite your nose off if you didn't kiss). "Yes, I can."

Evans sighed and rubbed the feathered end of her quill across her chin, looking contemplative. "You should go with me."

Severus gaped.

"No, really. You ought to've been invited anyway, as talented as you are, it's only fair. Why, Emily's invited simply because her Auntie is married to the manager of the Ballycastle Bats, and they happen to be second in the league last year. For _her_ to receive an invitation and not you, it's preposterous," she insisted. "Besides," she added with a laugh, "that way, I can tell all the boys who keep sending me hopeful glances that I'm already taken. You can't imagine the effort, putting up with that soppy romantic nonsense day in and day out…"

Severus was tongue-tied. Part of him wanted to jump for joy because she'd invited him, _him_ and a sense of promise and _possibility_ blossomed in his chest like a thousand roses. The rest of him wanted to crawl under his table and curl up into a protective foetal ball with his hands over his ears and eyes screwed shut because of his obvious unseemliness to her as a REAL date. He was disturbingly reminded of last Valentines Day. Caught between these twin horrors of embarrassment, he settled for prolonged gaping.

This seemed to do the trick.

"Right," Evans conceded with a sad shake of her head. "Right, of course not. _I'__ll_ go to the party and be social whilst _you_ sit all alone and consort with your Dark Arts text. Honestly, Severus, I've seen you sneak it out during Charms. It's like you're having some sort of clandestine affair or something. Rather shameless, really."

Severus felt his face flush. He clamped his jaw down tight to keep from uttering the cutting insult that waited, poised, on the tip of his tongue.

Evans sighed and scribbled a bit on the corner of her parchment. "Maybe I'll take Remus, then. He's seemed rather down lately, perhaps some holiday spirit and, you know, butterbeer would cheer him up a bit. What do you think?"

"I think _Remus_ has been walking around all day with one purple eyebrow," Severus retorted, highly offended.

Evans laughed. "That's from Transfiguration! We're doing human subjects now, it's terribly intriguing. I wish you'd been there, we do have such a good time. A shame you couldn't pass the OWL."

"A shame you're an egotistical cow," he told her.

Evans's jaw dropped.

Severus crossed his arms, tilted back his head, and looked down the length of his impressive nose at her. "Egotistical. COW," he repeated.

Evans slammed her quill down onto the table with a crack, furious. "You know what? Fine. _Fine_ I don't have to sit here and put up with your foul moods. I was only trying to be nice, you know, you don't have to bite my head off! There are _some_ people who appreciate my presence, Severus!"

"Well then, by all means go and study in _their_ private laboratory," he spat.

"Fine then," she announced, face the same blazing red colour as her tie. "Maybe I will!"

"Fine!"

_"Fine!"_

"FINE!"

_"FINE!"_

Her entire body trembling, Evans jammed her things back into her bag, hoisted it over her shoulder, and stalked from the room. She slammed the door behind her, not even sparing a backwards glance. Something on the far wall rattled, and a half-empty flask tipped over and rolled in odd half-circles on the counter before him.

"Fine," Severus mumbled, not bothering to right the flask. "Perfect. I'm better off without her. Bloody distraction, that Gryffindor. Never should've brought her here…"

But for some odd reason, he felt suddenly quite awful.

He sat quietly for a moment, staring blankly down at his essay, onto which the haphazardly rolling flask had spilled something blue, as the strange and horrible feeling washed over him. It was stupid. He didn't want to go to a Christmas party. He hated Transfiguration. He hated Gryffindors. He hated…

Fuck.

Balling his ruined essay up so tightly it hurt his fingers, he flung it at the door.

_Fuck!_

Even running as quickly as his feet would propel him, he was too late to catch any glimpse of her in the hallway. The Fat Lady only frowned reprovingly out at him from the door, no matter how urgent he said matters were. "The password," she told him. "I can't let you in without the password!"

He checked the library just in case she'd gone there instead, panting and out of breath when he arrived, but he knew before he entered that he wouldn't find her. He could've done without finding who he did.

"Snape. I've been meaning to talk to you." It was none other than Regulus Black, looking even richer and more pampered than ever in what had to have been yet another brand new set of robes.

"Really?" Severus sneered. "I can't imagine you've anything to say that might be of the slightest interest to me." It rankled him just looking at the boy when he should be shut away with Evans, happily composing an Outstanding essay.

"Maybe you should listen and judge for yourself," he proposed. With one heavily bejewelled finger, he beckoned Severus toward him, behind a stack of books.

Severus rolled his eyes. "What do you want, you insolent brat?"

Regulus frowned and held his finger to his lips. "Please. I know what you think of me. But I'm not a little boy anymore. I'm the heir to the Black estate, and--"

"Fascinating, but I'm not really in the mood. Now if the heir to the Black estate would kindly excuse me--"

Regulus's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "I'm not just anyone anymore, Snape. I'm important. I have influence. And I know things now, things you'll want to know. The Dark Lord has--"

"Oh, shove it up your arse," Severus told him, brushing Regulus's hand roughly off his shoulder. Sod him and his influence anyway. What good was influence when Evans was seven floors away?

Back in the dormitory, Sirius was half hanging off the side of his bed, upside-down with his hands and the tips of his uncombed hair brushing against the ground. "Shouldn't you be revising?" he asked glumly.

Severus slid dejectedly onto the bed beside him. "I hate you."

Sirius made a face.

"You know, you're really not poetic enough to die a slow, languishing death," Severus informed him, picking at a loose thread on the duvet. "It would be much better if you just ended it now, short and sweet. I know a few appropriate curses, if you're interested."

Sirius sighed and sucked on his bottom lip. "I can't read the book."

"What book?"

"The one he _gave_ me, I can't _read_ it. I mean, I could but…" he frowned, "but what if I don't like it?"

"You're mad," Severus told him, pulling on the thread. Others parted in its wake, leaving a hole through which he could see the downy white stuffing. It looked like the freshly fallen blanket of snow just outside the window, and he suddenly realized how cold he felt. "Why in the name of Merlin would you _like_ it? You don't read!"

Sirius made a noise and somehow managed to flip himself back up onto the bed.

"Sirius--"

"Wait, wait," he grabbed onto Severus's arm to steady himself, "head rush!"

"There, you see? _Not_ poetic."

"But I really WANT to read it! It's just…" his fingers rubbed at Severus's shoulder, "out of everything he had, this was the one thing he thought I might like, and… what if he was wrong? What if I hate it, and he was wrong, and _everything_ was wrong, and it's really over? I hate when things are over, Severus, I hate it…"

Severus crossed his arms, feeling expressly ill. "Better, but I'm still not convinced. Maybe try saying it in verse."

Sirius looked as miserable as Severus felt. "I told him I didn't care. It didn't matter how… sick… he was, but he won't even speak to me anymore. And it's… what if this book is all we have left? This… Odd Sea book…"

"Are you going to the Christmas party?" Severus asked abruptly.

Sirius shrugged and looked about to cry. "Guess not."

"Me neither. I hate parties." Severus informed him. "Hate them."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed in a quiet voice. "Hate them."

The room was suddenly silent, save the sound of their breathing and that strange rustling noise Severus sometimes heard at night behind his wall. He hoped he never found out what it was.

"Want me to tell you what happens in your book?" Severus asked. "I've read it, you know."

"No," Sirius told him, "I think I should probably read it myself. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

Severus sighed. "I hate you so much," he said, wishing with all his might he'd told Evans to wear the green. She'd've looked divine.

XXXXX

The week before the party was a miserable one.

Severus never bothered to rewrite his essay, leaving the blue-stained mess in its tight little ball on the ground, intent upon leaving it there until it rotted into the floor, even if he had to step over it ten times per day. Evans didn't speak to Severus, not even in class, and she didn't show up at their private room to complain about the fact that he'd left his disgusting rubbish all over.

Sirius paced back and forth across their dormitory for hours on end like a caged animal, muttering to himself and tugging at his too-short sleeves. It was Thursday and Severus was sitting on his bed revising his DADA notes for the sixteenth time when Sirius swore, kicked his bed, overturned his dresser, and stormed out of the room.

He stormed back in twenty minutes later and came to a stop in front of Severus. The things that had spilled from his dresser drawers were strewn about his feet, and Severus wondered idly if the house-elves would organize everything when they put it back away, or just throw it all in willy-nilly the way Sirius kept it.

"Ahem," prompted Sirius.

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"All right, I've figured it out!" Sirius exclaimed at rather startling decibels. "This is it! I've made my decision, the plan is in motion, and I shall vanquish!"

Severus blinked up at Sirius, whose freshly-washed hair was dripping in rivulets over the shoulders of his borrowed robes. He was standing on a toothbrush. "Come again?"

Sirius beamed. "I _said_," he said, and moved a step closer. "I," he stepped closer still. "Shall," he grabbed Severus's tie and pulled his face up toward his own. "VANQUISH!" he exclaimed, and smacked his lips loudly against Severus's.

Severus made a show of wiping Sirius's germs off his face, setting his book aside to save it from certain page-crumpling disaster. "Oh, go vanquish someone else for a change, you lunatic!"

Sirius's grin never slipped from his lips. "Tonight's the night, Severus. Tonight, tonight, and _tonight_!" He waved one arm wildly above his head in what might've been an expression of triumph, but mostly looked like spasms.

"I'm thrilled," Severus replied. He wiped at his lips once more for good measure and flopped back onto his bed, wishing he had a similar plan for vanquishing. But then he pictured Evans in her brand new dress robes, drinking eggnog and laughing with her friends, the light of a thousand Christmas candles glowing warmly across her skin, and asked himself whom he'd vanquish, anyway.

Sirius was beside him in two seconds. "You know what I've decided?" His hand came up and curled around Severus's chin, turning it so they were face to face. Sirius's eyes were burning with a mischief Severus hadn't seen in some time, shining and gorgeous in their depths.

Severus pictured Evans in Sirius's place, her eyes lit by a different sort of fire, and suddenly wanted to hit himself very hard over the head. Repeatedly. "If I say yes, will you go away? Immediately?" _Repeatedly_.

Sirius snorted and kissed the tip of Severus's great greasy nose. "You were right. Completely and utterly right."

"Of course I was, I'm always right. Now go away," he ordered, breathing a little hard from the thought of Evans laying beside him. "You're dripping all over my bed." Oh, how nicely she would've dripped…

Sirius was very suddenly hanging over him, his drippy hair smearing wet across Severus's face. It made Severus shiver. "I read the book. Last night, I read it, and I have a plan. It is flawless, and perfect, and Sirius-approved!"

Severus shoved at him, praying he didn't notice anything… amiss… and get the wrong idea, thinking _he'__d_ been the cause of it and not Evans. Sirius always got the wrong idea about everything. "Get OFF me, Black! Your hair is getting me all--"

"Are you two shagging again?"

Stebbins was standing in the doorway, his usual mildly-retarded expression even more irksome than usual. He was holding a roll of parchment and what appeared to be a grilled cheese sandwich. It made Severus hungry.

"Looking to get in on a bit of the action?" Sirius asked with a waggling of eyebrows, patting the bed beside him.

Stebbins cleared his throat. "Uh… think I'll pass. Just needed my uh… Astronomy text, and… was someone breaking furniture in here?"

Severus sniffed disdainfully.

And blinked.

"Are you wearing cologne, Black?"

"No." Sirius stood up, and Severus rolled over onto his stomach, highly relieved, but no less annoyed.

"You're wearing cologne," Severus insisted. "Where did you get that, it stinks!"

"You're having nasal hallucinations," Sirius told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. He walked up to Stebbins, kicking a pile of old socks, and snatched his sandwich. "Mah mmph mm mmmhp!" he said around a large mouthful, mussing Stebbins's hair and fairly strutting out the door.

Stebbins gave a blank look, looking down at his sandwich-less hand as though it were some great imponderable mystery. "Never mind, I'll just borrow Mulciber's," he said, and followed Sirius out of the room.

Severus heaved a sigh and buried his face in his duvet. Sirius was going on some great adventure, Evans was going to the party with someone else, and Severus was going to sit alone in his room with his DADA text and an embarrassing condition in his underpants.

Life was _so_ bloody stupid.

It became no less stupid when Sirius didn't return that night. Severus laid awake all night, staring at the doorway in the oddly bright moonlight, but it remained empty. He didn't see Sirius again until lunchtime. He was staring bleary-eyed down at his untouched bowl of pudding when the boy slid in beside him, nursing what appeared to be the beginnings of a rather spectacular black eye.

"Greetings and salutations, friends and neighbours," he said. "Oi, pass me the butter!"

Severus stared at him.

"Lovely day," Sirius pronounced. "_Lovely_ day! Don't you think, Severus?"

Severus gaped.

Sirius smiled brightly. "Muffin?" he offered.

Severus stood up. "So it's that easy, is it?"

"It's what huh?" Sirius asked. "These are muffins," he said, pointing to a basket.

"Not the muffins, you imbecile!" Severus snapped.

"Alright alright, calm down, no muffins, I get it! If you don't fancy a muffin, you could just say--"

Before he could finish, Severus knocked them from his hand. The air was suddenly full of muffins, possibly blueberry, and Severus shoved Sirius so hard he fell backwards over their bench and nearly conked his head on the Ravenclaw table. The air was full of squeals and the shouting of someone who might've been an authority figure, possibly McGonagall, but Severus couldn't've cared less.

"Everything's always so damned easy for you, isn't it! Half a thought, and it's yours, everything you want, anytime you want it! Well I'm sick to DEATH of it! I'm sick of your moping and carrying on and pretending the world isn't at your feet, and most of all your _utter __lack __of __poetic __aptitude_ therein!"

Sirius stared blankly up at him from the ground, holding the back of his head, which he'd doubtlessly knocked on something with his usual clumsiness.

"Once, Black, just _once_," Severus ranted, "in your perfect little life where everything always turns out your way and everyone always loves you and loans you their things and cheers when you hex Potter in the corridors, I'd _kill_ to see you LOSE!"

Sirius winced. "Severus--"

"I hate you," spat Severus, "and not only do I hate _you_," he said, patently ignoring the sharp call of _Mr __Snape!_ from across the Hall, "but I hate the _bird _that shit on the head of the squib selling flowers on the doorstep of the Ministry official who visited the brothel from which your father was forcibly _kicked __out_ on the day he had the _distinct __misfortune_ of impregnating your mother!"

Sirius blinked up at him. "Wow, that. That's some hatred, Severus."

And then there was a hand on his shoulder. Its hold was firm but not painful, and it guided him steadily away from Sirius's sprawled form. "Perhaps the time is right for the two of us to have a little chat, Severus. Shall we? My office please, yes, right this way…"

The Headmaster' office was airier than he'd've thought it would be, had he ever deigned to contemplate such things. It was also noisier. On the walls, various ancient-looking portraits conversed, one of whom seemed rather distressed. A large bird sat on a perch nearby, making conciliatory noises and clicking its talons on the metal. On Dumbledore's desk, there was some sort of giant metal contraption whirring about, and Severus knew the instant he saw it that he would spend numerous temple-throbbing and all-in-all fruitless hours in the library trying to determine its exact usage.

"Lemon drop?" the Headmaster offered.

"No," Severus responded tiredly, "thank you."

"Suit yourself," Dumbledore said, plucking a candy out of its bowl and motioning for Severus to sit.

He did. "I'm terribly sorry, Headmaster. I've been under a great deal of pressure lately, both academically and socially, I haven't been sleeping well, didn't sleep a wink last night as a matter of fact, and… I realize that there are repercussions for my actions, that I do need to be punished of course, and I leave that up to your wisdom and discretion, but I do believe that a simple Calming Draught should suffice until the end of the day, as Herbology begins in little more than ten minutes--"

One of the portraits sneezed.

"Do not think that I am unaware of Mr Black's current… situation, Severus," Dumbledore told him. He was regarding Severus with a serious expression from across the desk, hands steepled in front of him.

Severus thought his nails could use a trim. "Of course not, sir."

"So if you have any… concerns… please feel free to voice them," he finished.

"Oh," Severus shook his head, blinking to keep his eyes open properly, "oh, no, none at all, everything's fine, I'm just slightly out of sorts at the moment, nothing to do with Black at all, a Calming Draught will do fine, there's certainly no need to--"

"That boy, he'll be the death of me yet!"

Dumbledore blinked and looked over his shoulder. "My dear Phineas, not to split hairs, but you do happen to already be dead."

The dark-haired man in the portrait crossed his arms and harrumphed. "Lack of discipline, Albus, _lack __of __discipline!_ If only children were coddled less and whipped more--"

Dumbledore sighed, looking pained. "Yes, Phineas, thank you…"

"--a disgrace, that's what the boy is! Throwing tradition about willy-nilly and making his poor mother cry! They won't even speak of him anymore, none of them, burned off the tapestry he is, his bright future gone up in smoke, and I never thought I'd see the day when--"

"_Thank __you_. Phineas," the Headmaster repeated.

Phineas ('Nigellus' Severus noticed when he examined the frame more closely) made a noise and mumbled something about being underappreciated and ignored, and slipped effortlessly out of his frame.

In a nearby portrait, a woman wearing an odd sort of cape shook her head sadly. "Slytherins," she said.

Severus was too fatigued to feel properly offended.

"Now then, where were we… ah, yes," Dumbledore continued. "About Sirius…"

"I'll apologize to him," Severus lied. "I promise."

Dumbledore stroked his beard and looked amused. "And I'm sure this will never happen again."

"No, sir, of course not," he swore with all the false earnestness he could muster.

The man opened his mouth to say something but then shut it again. Furrowing his brow but looking no less amused, he popped another lemon drop into his mouth. He sucked contemplatively. His light blue eyes looked young and sparkling in his wizened face. "You know, Severus, I have always considered it wise to be just as familiar with my enemies as with my friends. I suspect this has previously crossed your mind?"

For some reason Severus couldn't quite explain, he felt slightly odd. He didn't think it was the exhaustion. Perhaps it was the Headmaster's eyes. Trying to avoid them, his gaze settled on the bird, which was preening its feathers. It was the colour of fire with eyes as black as Severus knew his own to be. A phoenix? He shrugged. "I suppose."

"However, this said," the Headmaster added, "it does not necessarily follow that I hold my friends to be more steadfast in their friendship then I hold my enemies to be in their enmity. As a matter of fact, as you may know, this is usually not the case."

Severus snorted.

"It is often much easier to be an enemy than a friend, Severus, and you have a right to have, and to be, both. However," he paused, "mind you don't confuse one for the other."

Severus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and wished he were too tired to understand. Or maybe, he just wished he didn't care. About any of it. About Sirius and Lupin, and how alone Sirius was and how sick Lupin was and what the two of them probably got up to in the prefects' bath, and how he utterly failed to hate Evans even though she obviously hated him, and what _she_ probably got up to in the prefects' bath…

The early afternoon light glinted off the spectacles atop Dumbledore's crooked nose, and there was that odd feeling again, the feeling he was somehow being examined straight through, as though his innards had been plucked out, scrutinized, and casually reinserted. "Is that all, sir?" he asked finally, because all in all, he preferred his innards where they were.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is. Do apologize, Severus. Your friends need it more than either of you know. Also, stop by Madam Pomfrey's after Herbology. I believe that Calming Draught may do you some good tonight after all."

Severus nodded and stood, stifling a yawn, barely believing he was free to go with a simple instruction to visit Madam Pomfrey. Which he would, of course, ignore. Where was the brutal punishment, the unbearable degradation, the hours of scraping chewing gum off the undersides of desks? The Headmaster had been a _Gryffindor_, hadn't he?

"Oh, and Severus," Dumbledore said, "one more thing. I realize it has been so very many years since I was your age that many students are disinclined to believe I was ever young at all. However, I ask that you kindly do your best to consider the possibility that I was, at one time, not so very different from yourself and may hold some knowledge on the subject."

Severus attempted to imagine Dumbledore as smooth-faced and youthful, with negligent parents, psychotic poof dorm mates, and horrendous girl problems.

He failed.

"Life," the Headmaster continued, "may seem so very difficult, so entirely incomprehensible to you as a young person staring out across the vastness of future possibility. But Severus, no matter what happens, no matter what friends or enemies you do or do not have, I _assure_ you that there will _always_ be more parties you can decline to attend at a later date."

Severus gaped.

"Off with you, then!" the Headmaster said, with a little shooing motion. "Unless you really had your mind set on the chewing gum removal?"

* * *

Sirius wasn't in Herbology. While it was clear from the state of his bedding that he'd returned at some point that afternoon, he was no longer in the dormitory either.

Severus moped.

Or at least, he thought he did. He'd never really done it before.

He'd mostly only brooded or sulked, but those were really very stationary activities, whereas moping involved some deal of movement. At this point, Severus had to either move or pass out from exhaustion, and he really needed to see Sirius before the latter occurred. Besides, without Sirius to watch him brood, or sulk, there didn't seem much of a point in it anyway.

Thus, he wandered about the common room looking disgruntled and pouty, tipping various fifth years' books onto the floor.

"Stop that, we're revising for OWLs!" one particularly cheeky girl told him as she spelled the wrinkled pages of her text flat.

"Of course you are, my dear, why else would I bother?" he asked sweetly. Langlock was too light a punishment for her, but he was just too worn out for anything more inventive.

Eventually, Severus tipped one book too many, and Aubrey had to go and get himself involved. "Haven't you caused enough trouble today, Snape? Leave them alone already!"

When he failed to come up with a fitting hex for the meddling prefect, Severus decided he really was exhausted beyond reason and, upon uttering several rude words regarding Aubrey's parentage, retired for the evening. After all, what did it really matter where Sirius was? And who cared about Evans with her stupid robes and her stupid smile at her stupid party?

Not Severus.

All he needed was sleep. He was so tired. A good, long, restful sleep to take his mind off how horribly surreal his life had become. Yes, that was exactly what he needed.

That, and setting Sirius's sheets on fire.

Yes, a nice, calming before-bed conflagration would do him good. Like a nightcap. Bluebell flames.

There was something shimmering under Sirius's covers. Shimmering and soft, and when Severus picked it up, its satiny material slipped like water through his fingers. Severus's heart skipped a beat.

It was too good to be true, but here it was, and when he pulled the cloak over his head, he looked down and saw _nothing_, just bare floor where his feet should've been. He scrubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands just to make sure he wasn't delirious.

"Merlin," he said, feeling at the cloak where it rubbed against his greasy hair. "Merlin."

Before he knew it, Severus was passing by dungeon five, feeling giddier with every step. There was no reason to be out breaking rules, wandering about the school past curfew, but Severus had an Invisibility Cloak, and he wasn't about to miss out. He could go anywhere, do anything. The world was his. It was marvellous, even if he was so tired he could barely feel his legs move.

So this is what freedom feels like, Severus thought.

"-- a selfish prick!"

"Evans-- Lily, wait! I swear I didn't mean anything by it!"

"Oh, I don't doubt that, James! I'm sure you've never meant much of anything in your entire life!"

"Come on, Lil! It was-- it was a joke!"

"Apparently not a very good one, because I don't see anyone laughing! And don't call me _Lil_!"

Evans was furious. Severus could hear it in her voice. He could hear it, and he was NOT happy. This was _her_ party, she'd put so much thought into it, they'd gotten into a _screaming __fight_ over it, and James Potter was NOT allowed to ruin it!

"Lily, wait up!" Potter shouted.

"I wouldn't wait up for you if you were the last man on earth!" Evans spat, and Severus didn't even know where he was, but he followed her voice, holding the cloak firmly around himself. "You always have to ruin everything, don't you? Everyone was having a perfectly fine time, and you had to--"

"You were miserable!" Potter insisted. "You were standing there next to that Hufflepuff _idiot_ as though you'd rather be _anyplace_ else, and I just thought I'd liven things up a bit--"

"Michael is not an idiot! He is a perfectly nice boy, unlike _you_, and he didn't deserve exploding PUSTULES all over his face just for standing next to me!"

Severus saw her then, Evans in her pretty new robes, green even though he'd told her no, her hair pulled back with soft curls falling across one cheek the way pretty Muggle girls wore it these days, and a gold chain around her neck.

Potter was following after her, but Severus didn't really see him. "What _Michael_ didn't _deserve_ was to be your date, when _everyone_ knows the person you should've gone with is--"

"My DATE!" Evans stamped to a halt, her eyes flashing with anger and looking every bit a Slytherin. It looked good on her. "He wasn't my _date_, James, he was just talking to me!"

"Oh. Oh, well who did you go with, then?"

Evans made a noise. "No one! I went alone! James, this is the Seventies-- the _Nineteen_ Seventies!-- and if a woman decides to go to a party without a date, then she has every right to do!"

"Alone? You went _alone_?! Why would you go alone when you could've gone with ME?!" And sadly, he sounded as though he meant it.

"You are the most wretched piece of-- I have no words, do you know that? I have _no __words_ to describe your utter-- James Potter, you are a…" Evans threw her hands into the air, "a really _dreadful_ human being!"

"Lil-- Lily, wait!"

But she didn't. She kept walking with Potter following after, and Severus wanted to _kill_ him for doing this to her because anyone who angered Lily Evans should _suffer_. He'd no idea when this became a universal truth, but it was and probably always had been. And it did explain any number of things, really.

This in mind, Severus didn't so much think as _act_, because the next thing he knew he was dashing around a corner and slipping behind a column, and Evans was stalking past and he was _grabbing_ her. Potter was yelling for her to wait and Evans was going for her wand and Severus was pulling the cloak over them both with one hand and pressing the other against Evans's mouth and hissing "Quiet!"

Evans was still against him, Potter was smacking his head and swearing a blue streak, and Severus had never smelled anything so wonderful as Evans's hair. "Let's go," he whispered finally, with no real idea where he intended to take her.

This seemed to matter little, as Evans simply took his hand and led him toward the staircase. They walked straight past Potter, who was scratching his head in a failed attempt to comprehend where his plan could've possibly gone wrong. Evans stifled a giggle. Her hand was warm, and she was so close that when she turned, he could see the odd flecks of gold amongst the green of her eyes, and he had to fight off the urge to count each individual lash.

Evans was pulling him up stairs and past suits of armour and a statue of Boris the Bewildered, and Severus didn't remember asking for someplace to brew potions, but he was suddenly in their laboratory, the door locking behind him, feeling more than a little bewildered himself.

Evans threw the cloak off them and laughed. And laughed, and laughed. She twirled around with her arms spread wide, laughing, and ran her fingers along the ingredients cabinet, laughing some more.

Severus didn't see what could possibly be so funny, but that might've been because he hadn't slept in nearly forty-eight hours.

"You told Sirius to stop that time, didn't you?"

Severus blinked.

"Back in fourth year, when he was giving me all those awful things," she clarified. "You told him to give them to James instead, didn't you?"

Severus shrugged. "So?"

Evans pursed her lips. "Do you really let Remus borrow your History of Magic notes after he's sick?"

"They're just notes," Severus told her.

"Was it an accident when you threw up on James?" she asked.

Severus shook his head. "I don't know what you mean."

"No one asks me to Madam Puddifoot's anymore, you know," was her non sequitur.

"I'm too tired for this, Evans."

"I'm just saying."

"Well, 'just say' some other time, why don't you?" Swaying on his feet, Severus began making his way to the cushy chair beneath the window when he realized there wasn't one. Instead, there was a huge, fluffy couch. _Merlin_, he loved this room!

"You're going to sleep?" she asked, sounding put-out. "Don't you want to make something? Polyjuice Potion, maybe? I've been stewing lacewings…"

"Yes, no, no, and I don't care," he responded. After all, he was curling up to sleep on a couch with Lily Evans. Who else could he possibly want to be?

And then it occurred to him to wonder why the hell Evans was on the couch _with __him_, pillowing his head in her lap. When had this happened, and how had he not noticed? Was he really _that_ tired? Well, apparently he was. "What are you doing?"

"Have you heard of shampoo?" she asked. "Because they've loads of it in the prefects' bath, all different colours, I could get you some."

Severus attempted a witty retort, but it came out mumbles because Evans's lap was so warm, and her hand was brushing his hair out of his eyes the same way Sirius did.

For one sterling moment, life was perfect.

* * *

Severus awoke with a start.

It was dusk, the candles were burned down to almost nothing, and Evans was gone. So was the cloak. And the balled-up, blue essay he'd left on the floor. It was all horrendous, and Severus was starving. Had he really slept through an entire day?

Back in the dungeons, he was startled to find hardly anyone about. Then he realized it was Christmas Holidays, and they'd likely all gone home. Something caught in his chest. But no, surely Sirius was still here. He had no place to go home to now, did he?

The curtains to Sirius's bed were closed, and Severus decided the best way to apologize was to demand the other boy get him dinner. Drawing the fabric open with his wand though, he had quite a shock. For lying in Sirius's bed was none other than Remus Lupin. Shirtless.

Blinking up at him, Lupin's expression went from curious to embarrassed to downright mortified. "Oh, oh I'm-- I'm so, Sirius is just getting-- I didn't mean-- this is not what you--" he tried to pull the sheets over himself, but they were tangled around his trouser-clad legs, the duvet in a messy pile at his feet.

Severus stared blankly as Lupin's shaking hands tugged along the rumpled creases in vain. Why trousers? he pondered dumbly, blinking up the length of the struggling boy's legs and swallowing when he found them unbuttoned and the zip halfway down.

Lupin gave a noise of defeat and flopped back on the bed, panting, each rib visible through thin, pale skin in the dim dungeon light. He wiped at his sweaty forehead and said in a weary tone, "I'm sick."

Severus slid down onto the edge of the bed, one hand gripping a bedpost. Why me? he demanded of himself.

The answer was rendered wholly irrelevant by Sirius's entry. He had _ham_.

"Severus! Merlin's sake, I thought Dumbledore'd fed you to the giant squid! Where in the name of Salazar Slytherin have you been, you--"

And rolls and mashed potatoes and treacle fudge and-- "Hand over the food or die, Black."

Sirius spread it out across the bed, hopping on beside Severus and spilling pumpkin juice all over his pillow. Severus scarcely noticed Sirius pull a jumper out from somewhere behind the headboard and slide it over Lupin's thin frame, as occupied as he was with shoving as much deliciousness down his throat as quickly as he could half-chew it.

When his stomach was full fit to burst, Severus lay back, belched loudly, and threw his feet across Sirius's lap.

"I can see your sock through the bottom of your right shoe," Sirius informed him, cutting into a thick slice of ham. He fed a piece to Lupin, who was leaning on his shoulder, and tenderly swept the boy's lank brown hair back behind his ear.

"If you continue with that lovey-dovey nonsense, what you'll be seeing is my dinner coming back up again," Severus announced, not really caring one way or the other, and suddenly wondering where Sirius's black eye had gone.

"So where were you?" Sirius asked. "Nobody saw you leave last night, and I asked everyone. And I mean _everyone_. Have you ever heard Avery swear when you wake him up from a dead sleep with a lumos in his face? Gifted, I tell you. Clearly channelling Lucius Malfoy!"

"I was rescuing a damsel in distress," Severus told him, all too truthfully.

"Really? How terribly adventuresome," Sirius answered offhandedly, clearly not believing a word. "Did she have nice tits?"

Severus shrugged and rubbed at his full belly. "I think it's a prerequisite for becoming a damsel in distress. Who'd want to rescue you otherwise?"

"Mmm," Sirius responded, fussing with Lupin, who was pretending he'd had enough to eat. "Did she give you a good look at them, then?"

Severus snorted and rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I said she was a damsel, not a whore."

"Pity. So where were you really?"

"Why is there a Gryffindor in our dormitory, Sirius?"

Sirius shrugged. "I found it out wandering around Hogsmeade all alone, and it was so cute I just _had_ to bring it home. Can I keep it? Please Daddy, I swear I'll take good care of it and brush it everyday and keep it out of Mum's flower garden…"

Lupin made a noise.

Sirius patted him fondly on the head.

"Vile," Severus announced.

"What could it hurt? There's no one here--"

"_I'__m_ here!" Severus corrected.

"--and I couldn't have him all alone when he's this sick. It's alright isn't it, Severus?" Sirius was leaning over him, batting his eyelashes.

"I can go," Lupin interjected, trembling and looking entirely green around the gills. "Really I, I'm feeling much better--"

Severus wished he had a pillow so he could smother someone with it. He wasn't sure whom he'd smother though, self-asphyxiation was quite high on the list, so maybe it was a good thing the pillows were behind Sirius. "As long as there's no more shagging," he specified.

Lupin protested the very possibility vehemently in loud, stuttery tones, and Sirius told him not to worry, when they did get down to it again, they'd let him watch.

Severus thanked him for his infinite kindness and informed him that he knew of a spell that would stick them together like that, and as it probably wouldn't be terribly comfortable over the long term and might require some bit of explaining to the Headmaster, it would be most advisable that they refrain.

Sirius laughed and pulled Severus toward him, laying back and leaning Severus's head on his shoulder. Severus sighed contentedly and snaked an arm around Sirius's middle, feeling warm and comfortable.

From across the expanse of Sirius's chest, Remus Lupin blinked hesitantly. His expression reminded Severus of being a small boy in the park, watching the other children building castles in the sand, tossing great shining balls, and swinging on the swings.

"Lay down already, you bloody shirtlifter," Severus ordered, wishing more than anything he'd had the courage to go swing with them, just once.

Lupin stared blankly, mouth open, for a full ten seconds. He then shook his head rapidly as though physically shaking off some unwanted thought, and lay down, wrapping an arm about Sirius, just above Severus's. His eyes on the far side of Sirius's chin were fever-bright and vivid, and Severus thought he could maybe see why someone might like gazing into them. They reminded him of Evans's.

Sirius put his arms around both of them. "Oh, I am such a _pimp_!" he declared.

Lupin groaned, and Severus poked Sirius sharply in the ribs.

They continued through the holiday in this same vein, and it was a good holiday indeed.


	8. VIRGINITY AND VALENTINES

**Notes: **Some of the valentines are from Shoebox Project (which you'll probably recognize), and the others I either thought up or found randomly online. I didn't realize the raspberry thing was from If You've a Ready Mind until I read through OotP again, but there you have it! Expect random DH spoilers from this point on.

CHAPTER 8: VIRGINITY AND VALENTINESf

Severus hadn't _meant_ to tell Lily Evans he'd resigned himself to a life of hopeless celibacy. It had just sort of come out, like Evans's penchant for matching bra and panty sets, leaving Severus blinking in shock at his own words.

The look she'd given him wasn't exactly readable either, nothing like pity or disdain. When she'd told him, "I'd've thought you'd give yourself a bit more credit than that, Sev," he hadn't quite known how to take it.

"Well, that's what you get when you go and start thinking, Evans," he found himself responding, and he knew then that the potion was wearing off, for him at least.

"I actually find myself doing it quite often," Evans informed him, her face scrunched up a bit. "Do Slytherins need some sort of a permit or something?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I'm shocked you're asking, considering you already know _everything_…"

"Honestly, I only know _mostly_ everything."

Ah, Veritaserum.

How did Severus get himself into these messes?

Oh yes. That would be on account of his big, fat mouth, and Evans daring him to a battle of wit. Figure out a way to lie through Veritaserum before she did. Simple, right? After all, he could lose at other things, like Transfiguration, Quidditch or, say, congeniality contests, but wit? Never!

When he'd told Remus about his goal, conveniently neglecting to mention the part about Evans, the Gryffindor had been dubious, but interested. "Only the most cunning wizards can manage something like that… you have to outsmart it, you know… I think I may know a book that might help…"

"It's good that you two are bonding," Sirius had told him one night after a lengthy study session. "See how brilliantly executed my secret plans are? You know, he once told me he'd thought that if you found out about us, you'd pull his intestines out through his nostrils and hang him upside down by his ankles with them while you collected his blood in a silver chalice, and-- well, it's no wonder he was a bit nervous around you."

Severus had frowned. "What was I going to do with the blood?"

"Mmm…" Sirius had shrugged. "I forget that bit, but I'm sure it was dastardly. Goes without saying, right?"

Severus had arrived at the main event as fully prepared as he could be, given his meagre resources. He and Remus had been able to ascertain that despite the fact that Veritaserum, if taken in sufficient quantities, made the drinker tell the absolute and unadulterated truth, a number of individuals seemed immune to its effects. However, the reason behind this remained mystifying, as every book insisted the potion disenabled its drinker from lying. There was a way though, Severus had read the case studies, and he had some tests in mind. He had the most wit, and he would not lose.

It all started with such promise.

Evans brought tea and biscuits, a treat since Severus had gone off food again. They each took one of the soft chairs, moving them face to face beneath the window for better interrogation.

"I'm putting three drops in each of our cups," she told him, settling down into her chair. "Actually, make that four, just in case. You can ask anything within reason, but remember you've got to try and be untruthful when you answer. I'm just sure we can figure out the trick to it."

"Too bad I'm going to figure it out first," Severus told her, grabbing a cup.

Evans rolled her eyes and picked up the other cup, mumbling some rubbish about him always making everything into a contest. "So… how was your Christmas? You stayed here, right?" she asked from over the rim.

Severus shrugged and picked up a biscuit. "Fine. I got socks"

Evans regarded him sceptically. "Socks?"

"The nice, thick woollen kind, coloured with the kind of dye that doesn't soak out after the first washing. They're my favourites," he told her, taking a bite of pure bliss. "One can never have too many socks."

Evans looked mildly embarrassed to be in the presence of someone who spoke so fondly of his footwear. He supposed it might've been the sort of thing you couldn't appreciate having until you'd had to go without. "So… are you excited about Apparition lessons?"

Severus pressed his lips together. "Not taking them. Do you think I have nine Galleons laying around somewhere? Stuffed in my socks, perhaps?"

Evans looked even more uncomfortable than she had before. "Sorry, I-- that doesn't seem fair, does it? The Ministry should have a… a fund or something…"

"Oh, stop being such a Gryffindor," he ordered, glaring down at his tea. "As if the Ministry cares whether I learn to Apparate!"

"Well, what if…" Evans shrugged, blowing on her tea, "I mean, I could get you the money…"

Severus glared. "I don't take handouts," he said, and drained his cup in one scalding gulp.

Evans shook her head and sipped slowly.

Severus bit into another biscuit and contemplated the situation. He had to believe he was telling the truth… or not know he was lying… it had to be possible. If not, why bother with criminal trials or unbreakable oaths? "It's supposed to work instantaneously, is it not?" he asked.

Evans frowned. She was sitting very properly in her chair, her ankles crossed underneath her, a slightly nibbled biscuit in one hand and her nearly drained cup at her lips. "Right… we should probably start… er… do you like being a Slytherin?"

"Of course," he answered, looking down into his empty tea cup and wondering if he should grab another biscuit. They really were quite good. "Did you think I didn't?"

"I can't see why any reasonable witch or wizard would want to be one," Evans said with a shrug.

"Well," Severus sneered, "that's because you're an intrinsically good person who can't comprehend why anyone would derive pleasure from other people's pain. You're too _kind_ and _good_ to be a Slytherin."

After the words left his mouth, Severus realized they weren't quite what he'd intended. Not that they weren't _true_, but… it was like they'd come out of his mouth unbidden, without him even realizing he was saying them. This Veritaserum was strange stuff.

"Really?" Evans asked, giving him a funny look and biting a tiny corner off her biscuit. "So do you think all Gryffindors are really intrinsically good, kind people?"

Severus relaxed, back in comfortable territory. "No, I think most of them are rotten. Like that Potter."

"Completely rotten, that one," Evans responded with a wave of her biscuit. "It's a shame he's so incredibly good looking."

Severus's jaw dropped.

Evans gaped back at him, blinking rapidly. "What I mean is, he's a total arse, but he's really quite gorgeous!"

Severus was aghast.

Evans herself looked completely appalled and added, "I can't help it! He's the best looking boy in school! Ah! I mean, I really hate him, he's awful, but he's just _so_ attractive! Oh, this bloody potion-- I wish I would stop saying these things! This is-- what I actually mean to say is that I'd really like to strip James naked and get a good look at his mmpmmph!"

Severus glared at Evans, her hands clapped firmly over her mouth and eyes wide. Her biscuit had broken, and half of it was lying in her lap. He crossed his arms solidly across his chest. "I am horror-struck at your lack of taste. Sirius Black is ten times sexier than James Potter!"

Evans drew her hands slowly away from her mouth, her eyes still wide. "You said… you used the word… I can't believe you just said that," she told him, thunderstruck.

"Nor I," Severus responded, feeling ill. Sexy? Merlin's sake! "Though I sometimes wish I could."

Evans eyed him warily. "What does that mean?"

"It means we should really," Severus swallowed, "really move on before I say anything incriminating about Remus Lupin."

"Remus Lupin? What's he--" she shook her head. "Never mind. I-- we should talk about something else."

"What colour are your panties?" Severus offered, with a sigh of relief.

"White," Evans responded, looking cross as she brushed crumbs off her robes, plucking the half biscuit from her lap, "and I would prefer to not speak of such things."

And suddenly, Severus had an idea. "What about your bra, what colour is that?"

"Also white. And if you keep asking this sort of question, I'm going to become angry with you, Severus."

This would definitely work! "Does it clasp in the back, or the front?"

Her cheeks flushed. "In the back, now stop talking about my bra!"

"Tell me something else about it."

"It's lacy! Now if you don't shut your mouth--"

"Tell me something more."

"It's a C-cup, and Severus I am very upset with you!"

Severus smirked. "Not nearly as upset as you would be if you realized I just figured out the secret to Veritaserum. Or at least, part of it."

Evans blinked, looking less angry, but somehow more irritated. "I don't want to admit that I believe you."

Severus snorted, highly pleased that his research was paying off. "Ask me something-- ask me a lot of things…"

It was all in the mind. It was all dependant upon how one _interpreted_ the question, it had to be! The last thing he'd said, _tell __me __something __more_, didn't necessarily involve her bra. She'd only thought it had, so she'd answered accordingly, and-- oh Merlin he just realized Lily Evans was _talkingaboutherbra__--_

"You think you're the cleverest boy in school, don't you?"

Severus blinked across at her, doing his level best to _not_ picture her naked. It never worked though, never, and this might actually be worse, picturing her sitting across from him with half a biscuit in her hand, in her _underclothes_--

"No," Severus answered. He bit down hard on his tongue when it tried to continue with the confession, which he was rather sure would've involved far too many lacy unmentionables.

"So who do you think is?"

"S--" he clenched his teeth, buying himself some time, and because she hadn't asked for a specific name, he responded truthfully, "someone other than me."

"And who might that someone be?" Evans asked, snorting rather indelicately.

Pressing his tongue tight to the roof of his mouth for a moment, Severus managed, in a rather choked voice, "someone who's not me!"

Evans was giving him the sort of look he'd expect her to give to a piece of homework that came back marked only nine out of ten. "Why aren't you answering properly? You're not technically lying, but…you drank all the tea, right? Oh, I'm so very upset about this!"

"Because I figured out a way around answering properly, true, yes, and I hate when you're upset, though I pretend I don't." Damn it, he had to stop offering extraneous information! Just clench your teeth and wait for the urge to spill your guts to subside!

"Oh, I get _so_ jealous when you're better at things than I am!" Evans said in a huff, looking at her bit of biscuit as though it displeased her. "And I really hate this Veritaserum!"

"I know. Ask me something else."

Evans glared, her face screwed up and arms wrapped around her middle. She shoved the biscuit in her mouth and chewed as though the act were of the utmost importance.

"Don't you want to know how I did it?" Severus prompted.

"Off coth I oo!" She spat a little.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think I'm the most clever girl at Hogwarts?" she swallowed and finally asked, looking distinctly unhappy.

"No," Severus said, feeling a smirk break out across his lips, "I don't."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you think I'm the most beautiful?"

"I don't think so, no," Severus told her, trying to hold back a smirk.

Evans blinked. "Really?

"No," Severus said, "not really."

Evans shook her head. "I don't get it."

"I just lied. Twice," he said, holding up two fingers for dramatic effect. "But I convinced myself it wasn't a lie before I answered."

"Oh…" Evans frowned, looking for imaginary crumbs in her lap. She was wearing white panties. "So you really _do_ think I'm the most beautiful…?"

"No," Severus answered. "I mean, yes. I mean… it's all about interpretation. I don't think you're beautiful. But you _are_ beautiful. I just don't think about it."

"Now that doesn't make a whit of sense and you know it!" Unless Severus was mistaken, she was pouting.

He raised a hand in acquiescence. "It's like this: some things just are, and you don't think about them. You _are_ the most beautiful, but I purposefully misinterpreted the question because I don't _think_ about you being beautiful. Your beauty has nothing to do with what I think. It just is. You are beautiful like…" she was still looking at him doubtfully as he searched for a proper analogy. "You are beautiful like the sun shines, like the, the wind blows, and… and rain is wet. You just _are_."

Evans stared at him, her lips slightly parted and her cheeks pink.

"You are also beautiful like dragon dung reeks, if that helps any," he added, not wanting her to get the wrong, or, he supposed, right idea. How did one undo a bra that clasped in the back?

Evans's mouth worked, but nothing came out. She swallowed, licked her lips, and managed to say, "I think you're one of the most hideous people I've ever met."

Knowing this already, Severus had then shrugged and made his horrifyingly non-compulsory comment about the current and projected state of his sex life. Apparently, knowing how Veritaserum worked didn't mean you could always take advantage of the fact. If he hadn't been far too occupied with contemplating the exact dimensions of a C-cup, he might've wanted to kill himself. Just a little.

Back in the dormitory some time later, Severus was feeling ill-represented and needy despite his obvious victory, so he pounced on Sirius.

"Tell me about sex," he demanded.

Sirius was laying on his stomach on his unmade bed, his bare feet kicking at the headboard. He blinked up at him from his January copy of Quidditch Quarterly, which his parents had apparently forgotten to cancel when they disowned him. "Well you see, Severus, when two people love each other very, very much…"

"Oh, shut up!"

Sirius flipped a page. "You fancy the Chudley Cannons' chances this year?"

Severus scowled and leaned his forehead against a bedpost. He frowned and wiped at the grease it left on the wood. "Is it really that amazing? People die for it you know."

"For the _Cannons_?" Sirius threw him a look. "Not since 1892!"

"Not for the Cannons, you idiot, sex!" He banged his head against the post.

Sirius rolled his eyes and then turned his magazine sideways. "Now _that__s_ some top-notch flacking!" he said, looking impressed.

"I just want to know if it's _worth_ it!" Severus griped. The entire prospect was dismally depressing.

Sirius made a noise. "How the hell would I know? Here, look at this, isn't it brilliant? Most keepers couldn't _dream_ of fouling like that!"

"Oh, come off it already," Severus said, batting the magazine away. "It's not like I'm going to tell anyone what you and your pasty-arsed--" he surveyed the doorway to double check they were alone "--boyfriend get up to behind his gaudy Gryffindor curtains. Doesn't all the red give you migraines?"

Sirius frowned, kicking extra hard at his headboard, which hit against the stone wall with a dull _thump_ _thump_ _thump_. "Moony has a very delicate constitution."

"Meaning?" Severus prompted.

"If I play too much with him, I might break him," Sirius mumbled.

Severus's jaw dropped. "Do you mean to tell me that after ALL these months, you two _haven'__t_ _even_ _FUCKED?_"

"Do you think you could say that a little louder, Severus?" Sirius all but moaned, pulling Quidditch Quarterly over his head. "Because I don't think they heard you in the _South_ of _France_!"

Vaguely amused, Severus poked at the back cover with his wand. "You can't hide your utter lack of masculinity under there, you know."

Sirius mumbled something vague from beneath his papery refuge, which seemed to include the shockingly misplaced words "feelings," "waiting," and "adult decision." And also something that sounded disturbingly like "chocolate."

"You're pathetic," Severus informed him, suddenly craving sweets. "So who do you think _has_ done it?"

Sirius peeked out from under a recklessly careening Bludger. "You got a girl or something?"

The edges of the magazine started to sizzle.

"Severus!" he yelped. "Bloody-- stop, I'm not finished with it yet! I was only--"

And then Quidditch Quarterly caught fire.

Sirius let loose a howl and threw it to the floor, stamping at the flames, but to no avail. Within seconds, all that was left of his prized magazine were ashes, which he stared down at sulkily. "I was only kidding."

Severus shrugged and pocketed his wand. "Just steal Bulstrode's."

"But that one was _mine_," he said, kicking at the black debris.

"You don't reckon Aubrey's done it, do you?" Severus mused. "I know he talks big, but do you--"

Sirius stood pointing vehemently down at the floor. "It was mine, Severus! That was my--"

"Well steal Bulstrode's, and it'll be yours too. I can't believe you're some sort of bloody virgin! You should be ashamed of yourself, Sirius Black!" Severus scolded. "You bring other boys into our bed and disrupt our relationship, when all this time you've been wearing the equivalent of a magical chastity belt--"

"Honestly, it's not like he hasn't sucked me off, Severus!"

Suddenly, Severus's head was filled with images he really could've done without-- Remus on his knees and Sirius's hands in his soft brown hair, Sirius's head tipped back to reveal the pale column of his neck, his tongue wetting reddened and parched lips, his chest hitching as Remus's mouth--

"Are you alright, Severus?"

Severus blinked, shaking the image from his thoughts. "What?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Accio Bulstrode's copy of Quidditch Quarterly!"

More than anything, Severus wanted to ask him how it was, what it'd felt like, if it was just as hot and wet and _perfect_ as he imagined it, if the threat of imminent _teeth_ made a shiver go up his spine, if Remus had ever _used_ those teeth… but he knew now what a horrible idea it had been asking Sirius about such things in the first place. It was making something in Severus's chest ache.

A squeal came from somewhere in the stairwell just before a glossy new magazine zoomed into their room. Sirius grabbed it, opened to somewhere in the middle, and settled back on the bed, raising an eyebrow at Severus over the top of the page.

He should go find someone with proper experience, experience with _girls_, and ask him. After all, if he'd wanted a boy, he could have Sirius. But he didn't, all he wanted was Evans in her strangely wholesome white panties, only then would he feel normal again, so what was the point?

"That was the single most unappealing thing I have ever heard," Severus declared. Better late than never, after all.

Sirius snorted and flipped a page.

Down in the common room, Aubrey gave him a bug-eyed stare. "Sex? You mean like, actually _doing_ it? No way. Try asking a seventh year."

Severus scowled. Some prefect he was. What happened to being the house of cunning and ambition?

"I've done it," said a voice, and Severus turned to find Mulciber perched on the arm of a nearby chair.

"Have you," said Severus mildly, keen to get this conversation finished as quickly as possible. While Mulciber was in their year, he was hardly ever around, a fact which was, although rather inexplicable, more of a blessing than anything else. It was common knowledge that the boy had gone through six rats this year alone because he liked the way their ribs stuck out when he starved them.

Mulciber tucked his hair behind his ear and sucked for a moment on the pad of his thumb. "Of course, it might not count if she had to be Obliviated after."

"Yes, you may be right," Severus agreed, excusing himself for a trip to the library.

Terrifying boy.

* * *

"Ah, am I to be paid now for the pleasure of my company?" Severus asked, staring down at the Galleons in Evans's hand.

"I told you I was getting it for you," she said, pressing the money into the palm of his hand.

Severus stared down at the gold, nine pieces in all, which was more money than he'd ever been in possession of at one time in his entire life. Two boys pushed past them in the hallway, one of whom smelled distinctly of Dungbombs.

"It's not fair some people can't take lessons simply because they haven't the means," she explained, waving aside the idea as obvious foolishness. "But it's not a handout. I used cunning and, ah, meanness to get it, I swear."

"Oh, show me your mean face, Evans," Severus said, staring back down at the gold.

She laughed. "I knew you wouldn't take it if I asked my father for it, so I was thinking, how would a Slytherin get money?"

The coins glittered so brightly in Severus's hand that he scarcely noticed the girl with feathers sprouting from her ears dash up the staircase. "You stripped down to your panties in front of Slughorn, took incriminating photographs, and blackmailed it out of him?"

"Eeew! " Evans squealed. "No, oh my God, of course not! I just-- Severus, that is really vile!-- I just _happened_ to mention in front of James that my father was short on money this month because my sister asked to go to finishing school. Which is not exactly a lie, though not entirely _true_ either… anyway, two days later, I had the money! What do you think?"

Severus's eyes never left his hand. Evans had all but stolen this money. And on top of that, it was James Potter's money, James Potter, Sirius's nemesis, whom Evans (entirely mistakenly) thought was the most attractive boy at Hogwarts. Should he be impressed or throw it back in her face? Was Apparition really worth the thought of his Evans being in Potter's presence for long enough to accept stolen goods?

He pocketed it. "Oh you are the wickedest of wicked, Lily Evans," he told her, just before informing the very confused looking boy who asked that no, he had not seen his jar of slugs.

Evans beamed, gave him a wave, and headed down the hallway away from him. "I hope you splinch yourself."

"Likewise," he agreed.

He gave the money to Sirius.

Severus had a bit of a time explaining how exactly he'd managed to get his hands on it and why in Merlin's name he'd ever turn it over to someone else, but _Potter_ turned out to be the operative word.

"I'm going to nick you the _best_ books from the restricted section, just wait!" Sirius exclaimed, pulling Severus into such a tight embrace he swore he could hear one of his ribs pop.

Severus cast a revulsion jinx on him, followed by a knee-reversing hex. After all, he hadn't given up the Galleons out of the goodness of his heart or anything. Severus really had no choice in the matter. He couldn't accept Potter money, and Sirius was a poor, pathetic virgin who needed all the help he could get. And anyway, Remus had been sick again.

When Severus didn't show up for lessons, Evans Vanished his supper, threw his pumpkin juice in his face, and refused to speak to him. She also refused to look at him or even stand anywhere within twenty feet of him. Their professors were marginally disquieted, especially Flitwick, who seemed to take Evans's new seating choice in the back of the classroom as a strange hint that they needed more homework.

Severus could never understand Evans and her alternate fits of anger and indifference. If he got hot and cold and hot and cold that often, he'd end up in the hospital wing every other day. It was fine though, Severus didn't care. Charms homework was fine, he didn't mind it at all, and she'd snap out of it eventually.

At some point.

Maybe.

The extra time Severus was forced to spend around Sirius, though, nearly made him regret his decision. He'd all but forgotten just how annoying his fellow Slytherin could be, and was less than thrilled at being so forcefully reminded, as Sirius was a lot heavier now and the entire room seemed to shake when he jumped on Severus's bed. But Severus just kept telling himself that Evans would snap out of it, and everything would be fine.

At some point.

Maybe.

_Merlin_, he hoped it was soon!

"Here, how does this look?" Sirius asked late one Friday afternoon, holding up an odd-shaped bit of parchment.

"Like hell. What is it?"

"Just read it!" Sirius urged, waving it in front of his nose.

Severus snatched the paper and read,

_Roses are red, éclairs filled with goo,  
I bet you are yummy, I would eat you.  
_

Sirius beamed.

"I feel a sudden urge to stuff this up your left nostril," Severus informed him.

"Oh don't, that one's for Moony!" he exclaimed, snatching it back. "See, they're valentines!"

Indeed, the small pieces of parchment in Sirius's hand were in the shape of badly-cut hearts. Was it really that time of year again… already?

"Here, I made you this one-- read it!"

_My love you take my breath away,  
What have you stepped in to smell this way?_

And in the bottom corner of the heart was a moving illustration of a steaming pile of dog doo.

"You are forever five years old," Severus said. "And not in an endearing sort of way. Are you truly planning to give your boyfriend something stating the implied yumminess of his goo?"

Sirius's eyes got as wide and gleaming as freshly-washed dinner plates, and Severus was forced to wrest the remainder of the misshapen cuttings from his grasp to distract him from the less than savoury thoughts of Remus's gooey insides.

_My darling my love, you've stolen my heart,  
My Galleons broom and wand, you thieving tart!_

_Roses are red, violets are blue,  
Take off your robes and I will do you._

_I love you as much as a thousand bright suns,  
Is your dad a baker? Cos those are great buns!_

_Roses are red, violets are pluckable,  
I like you a lot and think you are--  
_

About to inform Sirius of the exact level of horridness of his new creations through full and complete adjectival virtuosity, Severus was suddenly struck with one of the most brilliant thoughts he'd had in some time. Which was stunning, considering a few of the nastier curses he'd recently invented thinking about Potter alone with Evans in the Gryffindor common room. "Can I have some of these?"

Sirius eyed him suspiciously. "Not if you're going to burn them or something, I'm giving them out tomorrow. Took me a bloody long time to make, those things did… McGonagall nearly caught me!"

Severus thumbed through them, selecting eight or ten of the best, or should he say _worst_.

"Hey, where are you going?" Sirius demanded.

"Spreading the St. Valentines Day love, of course," Severus informed him, feeling particularly nefarious.

"Be sure to use protection!" Sirius chirped from behind him. "Love's not the only thing you can spread this holiday season!"

The library was quiet, and Evans was sitting alone, a large tome open before her and her school bag on the chair beside her. She was concentrating very hard on copying something which, leaning over her, Severus noted involved Wizarding law. Her hair was pulled up with that silver clip, the one that made him shiver just thinking of how it bared the soft, white skin of her neck. It looked even paler and more delicate than usual in the dim light of the library.

Doing his best not to look, Severus reached his hand over her shoulder and laid a valentine just to the right of the nib of her quill.

She blinked, picked the parchment heart up, and read,

_My love for you is like a rose,  
One that's dead and never grows._

Very slowly, she looked up from the drawing of a wilted flower and over her shoulder.

Severus stepped up to the desk. "No? Well what about this one, then?" he asked quietly, and handed her another.

_Darling I'd take you anywhere,  
As long as I can leave you there.  
_

Evans blinked.

"Well, perhaps not," Severus mused. "How about this one?"

_I want to feel your sweet embrace,  
Just don't take that bag off your face._

She looked at him blankly, and he shook his head. "No no, I think it might've been this one…" he said, handing her another.

_My love for you dear is for ever, everlasting,  
Is your sister single? I mean, I'm just asking._

Evans cleared her throat.

"Oh!" exclaimed Severus in mock disbelief. "Now, I remember, it was _this_ one!"

_You're lovely, a beauty, a vision of grace,  
If I give you two Knuts, will you sit on my face?_

Evans let loose into her hand a muffled sort of snort that sounded like a Hippogriff in heat and assuredly had half the library looking.

Severus slid her bag gently onto the floor and sat down next to her. He hadn't been sure of what her reaction might be, but he'd take horny Hippogriff any day of the week. So much better than a kick in the, well, Knuts. "So I've heard you're dying to visit this place… what was it called, Madam Puddifoot's?"

Evans had the sort of look on her face that adults often gave children when they were doing something naughty but indescribably cute. "I threw pumpkin juice at you. In the Great Hall. In front of everyone. In your face! And you come back with… my God, what-- those were the _worst_ valentines I've ever read!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Well, I have washed up since then, Evans. And what are you talking about, these valentines are marvellous. Sirius made them, you see, they even have old Transfiguration notes on the back. Come on then, I hear they have these fabulous teas there, and after you drink them, you kiss different flavours. Don't you want to kiss raspberry, Evans? It's all the rage."

She looked less pleased now. In fact, her face had gone quite pale. "What did you do with the money. Really, Sev, I had to go through--" she lowered her voice and leaned toward him, and Severus glared at a short blonde girl who was regarding them inquisitively from behind a bookshelf, "do you know how difficult it was to get that?"

Severus dipped his head closer to her, his lips near her ear where the scent of her hair made him feel dizzy. "You said you got it from Potter!" he hissed.

"I did!" she hissed back. "It's just… a little more complicated than I let on. So I really need for you to tell me what you did with the money, because--"

"You _gave_ it to me! You--" he calmed himself, not interested in providing the other patrons with their night's entertainment, "you gave it to me, so that makes it mine, and I used it as I saw fit!"

"It was for lessons, Sev, _lessons_!" she insisted, an angry and very becoming flush spreading across her cheeks. "You can't just-- oh, let's get out of here before we cause even more of a scene!"

Severus threw her a disgusted look, which she didn't catch, as she was packing up her things. The blonde-haired girl was still staring, so he shoved a valentine just behind the knot of her tie, the one which said,

_Love may be magical, love may be bliss,  
But I'd only sleep with you if I was pissed.  
_  
Once outside the library, Evans had apparently had sufficient time to become fully incensed, because she practically threw him into an empty classroom. "Do you KNOW how much potential trouble I'm in?!"

"Oh," Severus responded, peeling her soft fingers from the front of his robes. "I see. You've taken more Babbling Beverage. It's all so clear now."

Evans fumed. "I need the money back, alright? I need it back, and I need it back _now_!"

"I told you, I don't have it!" Severus insisted. "Why in Merlin's name would you need it back?"

Evans seemed about to shout, but she took hold of herself, breathed deeply, and closed her eyes. "I am going to be very calm, very composed about this," she told him, opening them again, "and then you are going to give me a full explanation of why you felt it necessary to use my Galleons for something other than that which they were intended."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

Evans sighed heavily. "You see, I _did_ mention it to James. But it's not quite as simple as him giving me the money. What happened was… well, he didn't actually have that much on him, and when he wrote his parents for it, instead of just sending him money via owl post, they contacted the Headmaster."

Severus was reminded of how distinctly different Gryffindor thought patterns were from normal, rational human beings.

"Of course," Evans added, "they were concerned that one of their son's 'very good friends' might miss out on such a necessary educational experience, and they said they'd be interested in setting up a fund."

"A fund," Severus repeated incredulously, wishing there were a cliff in the proximity so he could throw himself off it.

"But it was too late for anything like that," Evans continued, ignoring him, "anything Hogwarts-sponsored, since it would have to be passed by the Ministry and approved first. Dumbledore tells the Potters that, so they just send the money for me for the time being. Dumbledore then calls me into his office and tells me all this and I have no idea what's going on, so I just take the money and give it to you.

"But then, the next week, you're not there for lessons, and I'm furious with you, _furious_ because my father's sent me an owl saying he's been contacted by Professor Dumbledore himself about his financial situation, and anything else he can do to help, he'd be very, you know, so my father asks what he's talking about, as he's already paid, and I tell him I don't know, there must be some mix-up or something, and I thought I'd had done with it, but then Father writes _again_ and says the Potters sent him an owl as well, and is there something I'm not telling him, and I'm looking really awful and guilty here and I--" she took a long, deep breath, "_I __need __that __money __back, __Severus!_"

Severus shook his head, impressed at the sheer length of her run-on. "Why did you do this? Because you are not this stupid, I know you're not."

Evans made a noise somewhere in the back of her throat. "Well, I didn't want to make it look like you'd… you didn't sign up for lessons, and… Look, just figure out a way to get it back, alright! Because I only have two Galleons and three sickles, that's _all_, so there's nothing I can do!"

"I don't understand," Severus told her. "While I admit this is all very impressively conniving, it makes no logical sense. Why couldn't you just--"

"Just get me the money, Sev!" she pleaded, her eyes looking strangely desperate. "I mean, whatever you used it for, I don't know what Slytherins do with their money, but it's fine, just, just… please…"

Severus stiffened. "You think I squandered it, don't you?"

Evans swallowed and looked uncomfortable. "I don't think _anything_, I just need--"

"Well you can't have it," he snapped. "It's gone, and I can't get it back."

"Gone!" she cried, looking about to pull her own hair out.

"Yes," he informed her, nastily bearing his uneven teeth, "gone! So if you want it, you'll have to beat it out of Sirius's hide, because he hasn't got it either!"

Evans regarded him with a blank stare, her mouth working soundlessly.

"Oh, _think_, Evans! I know it doesn't come easily for you Gryffindors, as evidenced by this whole ridiculous shenanigan, but did you not see him at lessons and for one instant wonder where he might've gotten the money? He's even more desperately impoverished than I am!"

Evans seemed unsure how to take this. "You gave the Galleons I gave you for Apparition lessons… to Sirius Black. Because he's… poorer than you."

"Not so much the poverty as the overarching pathetic nature of his situation," Severus explained. "Do you realize he's been seeing the same person for-- well, since last year, and they've never even _done_ _it_?"

Again, the blank look. Then, after several moments, "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"Never mind," Severus told her as he made to leave, not in the mood to explain about the _feelings_, _waiting_, and _adult_ _decisions_, as that feeling in his chest still hadn't gone away. "I shall go speak with Dumbledore straight away, you've fouled things up enough."

"You know, somewhere along the line, this conversation took a really strange turn," Evans observed.

"It was the Sirius-being-a-virgin part," Severus affirmed. "Threw me for quite a nasty loop as well."

Evans shook her head. "No," she said, "it was the you-giving-Sirius-nine-Galleons part. You," she shook her head, "that was really very…"

"You see, Evans, this is what happens when you insist upon having such tremendously horrific taste in men," he scolded, and headed out to Dumbledore's office. Her blank look was becoming irreconcilably familiar, but strangely, there was a certain appeal to that as well.

The next morning, as other students planned their St. Valentines Saturday in Hogsmeade, Severus sat beneath a particularly persistent charmed heart balloon eating the slurpy yolks out of his plateful of eggs. They looked strangely like egg doughnuts.

"If only these things were safe to eat," Sirius told him, picking through a box of Chocolate Cauldrons a third year Hufflepuff had given him. "I love the coconut ones, but you can never tell if there's love potion in them, you know?"

"How terribly vexing," Severus told him with an utter lack of sincerity, stealing a gulp of the other boy's orange juice.

"No, really," Sirius insisted, tossing the Cauldrons to the centre of the table and prising open a heart-shaped box he'd been given by a fifth year Ravenclaw. "I get dozens of these every holiday, and ever since that time second year, I haven't dared try a single one. I still can't believe I got a week's detention for that. Not like it was _my_ fault I had my head up Bertha Jorkins's robes!"

"As you remind me with startling consistency each and every year," Severus muttered.

"Bugger, and these are the rum-filled ones!" Sirius exclaimed, banging his head on the side of the table and making piteous whining noises. "If only I weren't so irresistibly charming, debonair and well let's face it _flat __out __gorgeous_, my life would not be filled with such inextinguishable woe!"

Severus tried not to gaze longingly at the rum chocolates, which had just been snagged by Rabastan Lestrange, who was currently shoving a whole handful of them into his mouth. "That makes no sense. How could woe be extinguishable?" he demanded.

"Well that's just it, it's not!" Sirius insisted quite vehemently as he poked at what appeared to be a rose corsage that a seventh year Gryffindor had given him, insisting that she was only delivering it for her step-sister's cousin's dorm mate's mother's niece's ex-best friend. "Though it'd help if I could charm this thing to bite people's fingers off, wouldn't it?"

"Your lack of grasp of the English language never ceases to astound me," Severus told him, covertly jinxing Lestrange's shoelaces to tie themselves together under the table.

"Or noses, what about noses? Oh, can I test it on yours? Maybe it'll get bitten halfway off, and Madam Pomfrey can fix it up for you!"

Severus was about to inform Sirius exactly what Madam Pomfrey would have to fix up on _him_ when Severus had had done with him when a small boy walked up beside him. "Excuse me, you're Severus Snape, aren't you?" he asked.

Severus eyed him noncommittally.

"Okay, here," the boy said, holding out an envelope.

"Where did you get this, and why are you holding it out at me as though I'm going to take it from you?" Severus demanded.

The boy shrugged. "Some girl gave it to me and told me she'd give me a bar of Honeyduke's chocolate if I gave it to Severus Snape. You're him right?"

Severus blinked.

"A girl?" Sirius asked, abandoning his task of lobbing malted milk balls at Regulus, who looked perturbed by the constant and inexplicable _plonk_ _plonk_ of the chocolates into his bowl of cereal. "Who was she?"

The boy shrugged again. "I'm just in it for the candy," he said, and laid the envelope, which Severus now noticed had a large, light pink heart printed on it, beside Severus's plate of half-demolished egg whites.

Severus picked it up and flipped it over to find that the envelope was sealed with a glittery pink heart sticker. He was peeling the sticker back when Sirius grabbed his hand.

"Are you really going to open that? I mean, without checking for hexes, or…"

Inside the envelope was a glossy heart-shaped card, pink with fancy little scalloped cut-outs along the edge. Sirius whistled in mock appreciation. Severus blinked rapidly at it, not at all sure what to make of the situation. The elegant red lettering shimmered prettily as though he were holding it up to a candle:

_There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you,_

Severus ignored the wolf whistle and slapped Sirius's hand out of the way to open the card, the inside of which was printed in the same delicate script:

_that __I __haven'__t __done __for __half __of __Gryffindor __too._

Severus gaped, and Sirius let loose a little noise of unadulterated glee and grabbed again for the card. "Ouch, damn it!" Aubrey cursed as Severus jerked the card away and knocked him in the ribs with an elbow.

The Great Hall was suddenly filled with giddy screams as, above the Gryffindor table, one of the heart-shaped balloons popped loudly, showering the Gryffindors under it with sparkly confetti. Potter, his wand still in his hand, was grinning from ear to ear, his unseemly hair topped with pink confetti like candy sprinkles on a badly Transfigured hedgehog-cupcake. Beside him, Pettigrew was laughing fit to expel a lung, while Remus appeared to be attempting to fish the bits of coloured paper out of the marmalade.

Three seats down, with a pink ribbon in her hair and confetti stuck in her lip gloss, a huge pile of chocolates sitting untouched beside her, Lily Evans was smiling across the Hall at him.

He'd had his moments, Severus had, when he'd thought the world might be an alright place, even for someone like him. This was not one of them. His heart was beating so hard in his chest he thought it might escape, and an oddly benevolent grin was spreading across his face because this was _more_ than a moment. It was the thing that made those moments stretch and entwine, like hands reaching through fog so that moments were no longer moments and hands were no longer empty, and friendship and happiness weren't just for other people anymore.

And then Remus Lupin had to go and spoil it by being a werewolf.


	9. WEREWOLVES AND BORROWED ROBES

**CHAPTER 9: WEREWOLVES AND BORROWED ROBES**

The creature's eyes shone an evil yellow, glinting at Severus through the splintered crack of the wood, its teeth bared in a terrifying snarl as it lunged at the door. The teeth snapped, red-tinged saliva dripping from their points like needles, and it snarled, claws tearing at the decaying wood. Severus felt an unearthly chill sink through him as he stared in horror, feet rooted to the floor, at the snapping jaws forcing their way toward him through the opening, the door creaking feebly on its rusted hinges.

_Werewolf_, a voice in his head screamed, _werewolf,_ _run!_ but he couldn't. He couldn't move, not a single muscle, couldn't even scream past the terror in his chest, because there was a _werewolf_ in the Shrieking Shack, and Severus Snape was going to die.

The door was cracking, splinters flying, and the monstrous _thing_ was inches from him when something yanked him away from it. Severus had only the vaguest sense that the something was human, that it was screaming in his ear, that it was dragging him down the stairs and toward the passageway and safety because the werewolf was howling and the sheer horror of it locked his knees and sent cold tingles down his spine.

But somehow, miraculously, he was running, tripping over his own feet and bumping his head against door jambs, but running. When they reached the passageway, they jammed the heavy metal door shut behind them, and frantic hands beside Severus's pulled the bar down across it. Gasping for breath, he slid to the ground, the smell of wet earth filling his nostrils and his entire body thrumming with adrenalin.

The wolf howled in the distance, making Severus jolt despite himself, and the unknown hands jerked him to his feet. They were shaking him, rattling his neck so hard he thought it might fall off, and a voice was yelling loudly, but it took some time before he recognized human speech.

"--bitten? Snape, you fuck, _were __you __bitten_! Damn it, Snape, answer me!"

Severus blinked. And smacked James Potter full across the face.

His tremulous shaking subsided as Potter shrieked, clawing at his face, where the broken lens of his glasses had cut deeply into his cheek. Blood dripped in rivulets down his chin, illuminated by the glowing tip of his wand. He held a dirty hand to it, swearing profusely.

All in all, Severus felt quite steadied by the sight. Misery and agonizing pain were so comforting when they were happening to someone else. However, the reprieve from deathly terror brought Severus back to himself, and it was a shock to realize he still had a body. And it hurt.

His shoulder ached where the Willow had whomped him before he'd found a proper stick to poke it with, and when he rubbed at it, he realized his hands were scratched and raw, with slivers all up his left palm. There was a searing pain across his forehead as well, which turned out to be an awful gouge. He also noted that his robes, his only good set, were ripped across one elbow, and there was something wet dripping down the insides of his legs.

"What," Potter's voice suddenly demanded, "the HELL did you think you were doing?"

Severus stared at him. "You tried to kill me."

Potter's bloody jaw dropped. His glasses were sitting cockeyed somewhere around his forehead, and the effect would've been darkly humorous had the Gryffindor not just tried to, say, get Severus eaten. "No! No, of course not, I didn't actually think you'd go in--"

"How in Merlin's name could I NOT GO IN, Potter?! You told me to poke at the knot in the Whomping Willow--"

"I did NOT!" Potter fumed, blood seeping out between his fingers, which were still held tight to his cheek. "I told you to _jab __your __greasy __nose_--"

"Oh, because that's SO different! You knew once I'd got here I'd come face to face with a--" Severus flinched, a sharp jet of pain shooting through his left ankle as he stepped forward, "a WEREWOLF!"

Potter's jaw dropped as though the very idea shocked him badly and he could in no way fathom what a werewolf could possibly have to do with their current situation. The broken glasses sitting lopsided over his eyebrows did nothing to dispel the expression of utter idiocy. "But… I thought you-- I was sure he'd--"

"SEVERUS!"

Sirius was pelting down the underground passageway, lit by a lumos from his own wand, and Severus didn't know whether to be relieved or incensed. Did he know what Potter had done, and if he didn't, how could he know where Severus was?

"You're alright! Merlin, are you alright? Your head," he panted, face flushed and fingers sweeping the hair back from the wound on Severus's forehead, "he didn't bite you did he? Severus, did he--"

"No, it didn't touch me! Now if you would kindly inform me what the Hell is--"

Sirius kissed him full on the lips. "I was so worried! Merlin! Prongs told me what he said he's such an arse and I ran down to find you but you'd already left and I knew we should've finished that map! Severus, I am so, so sorry!"

Severus gaped and pulled with a splinter-filled hand at the soggy front of his robes, which were sticking to his legs uncomfortably. "You knew about this. You KNEW!"

Sirius made a noise in the back of his throat and tugged spasmodically at his hair.

"You didn't TELL him?!" Potter shouted. "How could you not have TOLD him? You tell that bastard everything!"

"Tell me what?" Severus demanded, baffled by this and whatever could be soaking his robes and stinking like-- "What didn't you tell me, Black?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell! You HEARD me promise!" Sirius shouted back at Potter. "It was all supposed to be a secret, so I promised Moony I wouldn't utter a word, and I didn't!"

Waving his glowing wand haphazardly at Sirius, Potter spluttered, "But-- but you, you're a-- you're a _Slytherin_! Slytherin don't keep their promises! Promises to your lot are like, like--"

"Shut up! What do _you_ know anyway?" Sirius yelled, his wand inches from Potter's bleeding face. "You're the one who opened your big, stupid mouth, you arse-faced git! Severus could've died, and do you have any idea what sort of trouble we're in now? Wormtail's brought Dumbledore, they'll be here any minute! We'll be lucky if we don't ALL end up expelled!"

Severus had wet himself. Like a two-year-old, he'd lost control of his bladder somewhere in the middle of his panic, and the result was dripping down into his socks. His nice, new ones. He felt ashamed, sickened, and indescribably irate. He wanted to die. And then kill himself. And then die.

Suddenly, Sirius was grabbing his hand, the hand that had just been plucking at his urine soaked robes, a pleading look in his eyes. "Please, Severus, please understand! I was going to tell you, I just wanted you to get used to him first, get used to him being around and see he's no danger-- please, please, Severus! It's not Moony's fault, he, he's _sick_!"

"What do you--" he snatched his hand back, realizing at that moment the enormity of what had just occurred. "That's Remus. That, that _thing_ is Remus Lupin!"

It had to be. Full moons and missed classes and _Moony_ for Merlin's sake, they called him _Moony_! It was right in front of his nose, it had been the whole time, more obvious than his pissed pants, and he'd never even noticed. Remus Lupin was a werewolf, they'd been hiding him in the Shrieking Shack, and that meant--

"Sirius, you're shagging a werewolf."

It was the most ridiculous, inane thing that had ever passed his lips, and both boys stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. Which he really hadn't, or maybe he had because this night was just too surreal to be true. Would a sane man piss himself at the sight of a werewolf? He would, wouldn't he?

"No one's shagging anyone, Severus," Sirius said quietly, his eyes darting to Potter. "That's not funny."

"Funny!" Severus exclaimed. "How is any of this funny! He could've infected you, he could've--" Severus's mind jumped back to Christmas, and curling up with the two of them on Sirius's bed and eating half of Remus's treacle tart, and waking up that one morning with his nose buried somewhere in the vicinity of Remus's armpit--

But no. The books were very specific in the fact that transmitting lycanthropy required a bite from the wolf itself. No, the only thing Severus could've caught from Remus was a predilection toward shirtlifting, and catching the two boys slurping at each other's faces had surely left him even more disinclined. He shivered at the memory.

"We watch over him, alright?" Potter was saying. "We take him to the Shack and lock him in, and no one but an IDIOT would go purposefully poking about the Whomping Willow to find him!"

Severus bristled. "Yes, because I am the obvious idiot here, Potter! Obviously the idiot is me when you're the one who told me how to get in--"

"_Me_ the idiot! I was sure Sirius told you how to--"

"Pardon me, gentlemen," said a pleasant yet commanding voice from the entry to the passageway. "I do hate to interrupt a discussion on an issue of such obvious relevance, but time, as they say, waits for no man."

"James?" came Pettigrew's voice. "I brought Professor Dumbledore. Did Remus kill Snivellus yet?"

"Not yet, Wormtail," Potter replied, adding with a mumble, "though I live in hope."

"Oh, come off it!" Sirius hissed. He slid his arm beneath Severus's shoulder to take the weight off his sore ankle as they made their way out.

Dumbledore, looking even more wizened with his long grey hair and pallid skin lit by the full moon, was a strangely welcome sight. "Now, Mr Pettigrew has been kind enough to explain to me the situation, but perhaps if I could also hear, in each of your own words--"

"They tried to kill me, sir!" Severus interrupted.

Potter made a noise that indicated he'd be overjoyed to kill Severus on the spot, and Sirius made a noise indicating he might just let him. "That's not what happened, sir," he said.

"It _is_ what happened!" Severus insisted.

"I thought he _knew_!" Potter declared.

"Gentlemen!" Dumbledore interrupted, still calm but distinctly less than pleased. "I have been assured that what occurred tonight was not an attempt upon anyone's life, but a misunderstanding combined with a distinct lack of judgment that has led to a very unfortunate and dangerous situation. However, if I am correct in my assumptions, no permanent harm has been done, and--"

"A WEREWOLF!" Severus shouted, outraged beyond words and lost to all propriety. "These dunderheads hid _a __werewolf_, and that _idiot_--" he pointed at Potter "--tried to lure me in and have me eaten! And you say there was _no __permanent __harm __done_?!"

Dumbledore sighed, looking unimpressed. "Perhaps we should continue this chat in my offices, in the warmth of the indoors and away from--"

"Professor!" Severus insisted. "They hid a _werewolf_ at Hogwarts! Do you understand what sort of danger this puts us all in? What if it got loose? What if someone's lunar chart got jumbled and Remus transformed in the dormitories and attacked--" he made a sweeping motion with his arm that could've meant anyone from _me_ to _St __Nicolas_, but quite obviously meant _Lily __Evans_. The sudden thought sent another chill of terror through him, and he swayed on his feet as it sank in, that Evans had been in danger, that she _was_ in danger, that Potter knew and had left her there, with no remorse or regret.

It always came back to her, didn't it?

"Mr Snape," Dumbledore began, voice calm and soft, "if it is of any consolation, I assure you that I am terribly sorry for the danger which you have faced this evening. However, please know that I was fully aware of the situation from the beginning and have closely monitored Mr Lupin throughout. Without specific instructions as to how to enter," he shot Potter a disappointed look over his glasses, and the boy winced, "it is nearly impossible that anyone could have discovered what I, yes Mr Snape, I, had hidden there. I do not wish to diminish what must, assuredly, have been a terrifying ordeal, but if you had simply followed school rules and stayed in your dormitory where you belong, none of this would ever have taken place."

Dumbledore was right. He was right, Severus had broken rules, and Severus hated that he was right because Severus had suffered and someone must pay. He turned to Sirius.

"This is all your fault."

Sirius swallowed. "I know." He looked small with the still limbs of the Willow behind him, his wand's weak lumos flickering in his hand. "I know I should've told you, but--"

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore interrupted, "my offices, if you please."

"You've known from the beginning, haven't you, Black? Back when you told me you were blackmailing them, that you'd seen something you could get them all expelled for, when was that, last year? You lied to me, Sirius. You LIED to me!" Severus glared at him so hard his head hurt.

"It's not like that, Severus," Sirius insisted, gaze falling somewhere near his feet. "They just… pretended they were up to something else, and… I didn't figure out the werewolf part until this year, remember that night I was sick in your bed and you babbled at me?"

Severus gaped. How simple would it have been for Sirius to have told him right then and there? _Moony'__s __sick_, he'd said. Nothing about werewolves, nothing about Lily Evans dying in a pool of blood beside the statue of the statue of the hump-backed witch, her brilliant emerald eyes staring unseeing into nothing, her hands cold and rigid, and Severus's heart, his entire soul, empty.

"Can we go in now? My toes are cold," Pettigrew whined.

"Shut up, Pete," Potter told him.

"Mr Snape," the Headmaster began.

"Was it worth it?" Severus asked.

Sirius looked up.

"Was it worth lying to me and putting everyone at Hogwarts at risk, Sirius? Is he really," Severus sneered, "_that_ good?"

An expression Severus had never seen before, wide-eyed and stark, played across Sirius's features. "Don't, Severus. Don't. Please…"

"Don't what?" he spat. "Don't tell them all what you get in exchange for keeping your silence?"

"What is he on about, Black?" Potter demanded.

"Nothing. He's, he must've-- nothing!" Sirius said, voice catching in his throat. "He doesn't know what he's saying!"

"Is that so? Why don't you tell us then, does it work on a reciprocal payment system? You bring him dessert, you get a snog in a broom closet; you keep your mouth shut about him being a _bloody __werewolf_, and he _sucks_ _your_--"

"SHUT UP!" Potter's wand was pointed directly at Severus's face. "Don't you DARE lie about Remus like that, you piece of filthy--"

"It's the truth! I've seen them!" Severus shouted back, jabbing his finger in Sirius's general direction. "Just ask him, he'll tell you!"

"I would NEVER do something like that to Remus, and you know it!" Sirius declared, looking stricken and gripping his glowing wand so tightly it shook.

"James," said Pettigrew, who was plucking at his cloak like a small child in a toy store, "James, what's going on? What did that git do?"

"I _saw_ them," Severus repeated the lie, calmly despite the fury welling up in his chest. "Remus on his knees and Sirius's hands tangled in his hair--"

Potter's wand was inches from his nose, shaking and spitting sparks from its tip. "One. More. Word," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"James, what's--" Pettigrew began.

"What is going on, Wormtail," Potter hissed, "is that this slimy, worthless _fuck_ is telling lies about our Moony. And he is going to take them all back, or else. Right. Now."

Severus wasn't frightened. Numb maybe, that might explain his calm at having an enemy wand shoved in his face, or perhaps he'd already used up his personal share of fear for the night. He didn't panic. He didn't go for his own wand. He just stared. Stared at Potter's face, contorted in rage, bloody gash on his cheek and mangled eyeglasses lending him the appearance of a tasteless caricature, and felt nothing. Maybe it would be best if Potter killed him, after all. Then they'd all be expelled, and Evans would be safe. It'd be well worth the sacrifice, wouldn't it?

So he stared calmly, and Potter bared his teeth, and Pettigrew whimpered, and Sirius said very calmly, "It's true."

Potter dropped his wand. Severus felt it plonk against his shoe and roll off into the grass.

"I've-- I mean, we… since last year, when he…" Sirius's face was white as a ghost, his voice shaking. "I would never, ever hurt him, and I wouldn't've ever _touched_ him if he hadn't… But we didn't… he likes… I only did what he…"

For a moment, Severus thought Potter, his entire body trembling and breath hissing through his teeth, was going to kill Sirius. Leap upon him and strangle him with his bare hands. But the moment dragged on, pulled at both ends like taffy so it split in the middle, and there was only a wandless Potter staring murderously at Sirius with his ashen face and quivering bottom lip.

"I'm, I… I let you down, James." Sirius murmured, and he swallowed hard. "I let _everyone_ down."

Potter spat at Sirius's feet. "You're despicable."

"Well, I do think things have been cleared up nicely, then," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Severus jumped, having entirely forgotten the man's presence. Oh, he was in for it now. Fifty points from Slytherin and detention until he was eighty.

So why did he not care?

"After further consideration, I believe I shall have Mr Potter and Mr Pettigrew await me in my offices, whilst I speak with Mr Black and Mr Snape here. The password is chocolate gateau, Mr Potter. Off with you, then." He waved the Gryffindors away.

"This isn't over," Potter hissed as he picked up his wand. He bumped his shoulder hard against Sirius's as he stalked away.

Severus sighed and wished he'd thought to bring his DADA text to distract himself. What a nightmare.

As the Gryffindors walked away, Dumbledore pressed the knot on the Willow with his already drawn wand, stilling its branches which had begun to tremble. Severus shivered. The cold of the night had finally caught up with him, and his breath puffed out of his mouth like smoke from the Hogwarts Express.

"Well then, why don't we start from the beginning. Mr Snape, an explanation if you please," the Headmaster prompted.

"The beginning of what," Severus said petulantly, wishing he could remove his robes, which were now getting very chilly and a little stiff around the legs. Because the beginning… really, who could even say when that was? The first day, on the Hogwarts Express?

It couldn't have really started tonight, with werewolves and pissed pants and reckless endangerment of Lily Evans's life. It couldn't have all started with Potter shouting something like:

"Why don't you go jab your greasy beak into the big knot on the Whomping Willow if you're so bloody starved for amusement!"

It was a dreary Tuesday and Potter had been skulking about the corridors still lamenting in solitude over his utter lack of Valentines Evans, and Severus had been feeling smug from having revised for four hours with her that very afternoon. Severus had thrown an insult and Potter a hex, which of course had only led to more hexes and insults, encompassing nearly everyone and everything from Silencio and Salazar Slytherin's feeble broom to Impedimenta and Potter's ailing Grandfather.

And suddenly there they were, those odd words, dropped into his lap like a screaming newborn. But what could it mean, poke the knot on the Willow? No one had been allowed anywhere near it since that idiot Gudgeon had nearly lost his eye trying to pull leaves off it for a Herbology project. Severus promptly demanded an explanation:

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he spat, brandishing his wand.

"It's supposed to mean I'm sick and tired of your ugly face!" Potter spat, lips curled in a snarl. "You think it's fun to go poking your nose where it doesn't belong, but you'd better keep it out of my business or else!"

"Believe me, Potter, your business is the last place I want _any_ part of my anatomy," Severus returned with his nastiest sneer, just before sending Potter into a howling fit of giggles with a well-cast Rictusempura and bolting down the hall before the boy could strike back.

Now, if anyone could decipher Potter-ese, it was Sirius, having once blackmailed the Gryffindor into unlawful and licentious mapmaking, so Severus had headed back to the dormitory to prod him a bit about it. And also maybe abuse him some more about Remus and his virginity.

Of course Sirius wasn't there. No one had seen him, not even the half-dozen girls who'd taken to stalking him over the past week in the altogether futile hopes of an invitation to Hogsmeade.

It was all disgustingly ironic in hindsight.

The night was growing dark and the moon was shining brightly across the icy grounds just visible from Severus's small window when he made up his mind. Sirius was always going out on this sort of adventure, so why couldn't he? It's not as though he was hunting unicorns in the Forbidden Forest or anything…

Sticking a loose bit of parchment into his DADA text to mark his place, he'd set it on his dresser, quickly invented a cover story, and struck out into the night.

But he wasn't about to tell the Headmaster _that_.

In fact, he wasn't about to tell him anything.

Dumbledore was hardly going to expel him-- if he did, Severus would tell the entirety of Wizarding England he'd harboured a werewolf in the midst of innocent children, and the man wouldn't be fit to measure out black beetles in a second-rate apothecary.

Dumbledore understood his silence for what it was. "I must admit to a certain disappointment, Mr Snape. I had thought that after our talk of friends and enemies, you had come to certain realizations. That perhaps your gift of Miss Evans' Galleons might indicate a change of heart. However," he said with a heavy sigh, "I fear I no longer know what to make of this situation."

Sirius was staring at Severus with a strange look. It was the kind of look that made his insides squirm, that suggested something of some value might actually take place in that brain of his, that the disgusting amount of intelligence Sirius possessed was good for something other than setting Mrs Norris's fur on fire and putting Slytherin House in negative points. That Sirius might not be entirely useless after all.

It terrified him nearly as much as the werewolf.

"I _wet_ myself!" Severus all but screeched, the sound of his own voice making him flinch.

Sirius regarded his soiled robes with a level gaze. "I'm the dog."

Severus stared. "What?"

Sirius wrapped his arms around his middle. "You know, from the book. The Odd Sea."

"I have been terrified and humiliated _half __to __death_, and you want to talk about animals in books!" Severus spat, incensed at the lack of reaction.

Sirius shook his head. "You don't understand. I would wait, like the Odd Sea dog. I would wait twenty years just to--" he faltered. "I would wait, just to see him one more time, even if it was the last thing I ever did. And I… Severus, I don't know why you can't understand that he's not the only one I'd wait for."

"What is wrong with you?" Severus demanded, pressing his hand to the throbbing gash on his forehead to distract him from Sirius's implications. "I could've been killed because of him, because of _you_, and you're talking about-- it's the Odyssey, damn you, the _Odyssey_!"

"Do you even realize what you've just done?" Sirius demanded. He looked suddenly furious, colour blossoming in his pale cheeks. "Do you have _any_ concept of what this means?"

"He should never have been allowed here in the first place!" Severus shouted back, feeling the fury pounding in his skull. "He's a danger to the rest of us! It may be all fun and games for you, playing hide-the-wand, but there's the greater good to think about, Sirius!"

Sirius made a disgusted noise and ran his hand shakily through his hair. "The greater good. Right. Send Remus home and pretend he doesn't exist so we can sleep soundly at night. Sacrifice one for the sake of the others, that's the greater good. I've heard this sort of talk before. From _Death_ _Eaters_! And do you want to know why I'm not one of them, why I left home last year?"

"No!" Severus spat.

"They KILLED A MAN!"

Severus gasped.

Sirius's anger had left him, and he gazed at Severus with a strange longing. "A Muggle. It was all over the papers. They took me with them to… I don't know… to see it…" his voice was hardly above a whisper, "I retched all over myself, and all over Bella's shoes, and she told me I was soft and I'd see, they'd fix things for us Purebloods, it was all for the _greater __good_…"

Severus recalled from his history texts the death and destruction of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald's campaigns, _For __the __Greater __Good_ his motto, and felt ill.

"There is no greater good, Severus. The best we can hope for is to limp by with the small little dollops of good we have inside us."

Severus was suddenly cold. Not on the outside, but on the inside, where he'd felt that soothing warmth at the sight of her appalling valentine and her confetti-coated smile, seemingly so long ago now. He pictured her again, lying dead in a deep crimson pool on the floor, but her eyes weren't empty this time. They stared up at him, accusing, cursing: _You __can'__t __save __anyone __can __you?_

Severus clawed at his own chest, gasping for breath, suffocating, because it was too much, those dead eyes, he couldn't take it, he never did anything right and never would. He fell to his knees, hands at his throat now, squeezing because there was no other way, he had make it all stop.

When strong hands pried his fingers away, he howled in fury and thrashed against the hard body that pulled him close. A warm hand stroked at his hair, but it was only when he heard Sirius's soothing words through the ringing in his ears that he calmed.

"…great bleeding baby, can't even handle a little werewolf, what kind of Slytherin are you, stupid ugly git… ridiculous panic attacks, pissing your pants like a baby, ashamed to admit I even know you…"

Severus fell weakly into his embrace, closed his eyes, and wished he were dead.

* * *

Severus awoke the next morning thinking he just might be dead. Everything was white and brilliant and calm and a bit like what one would expect of the afterlife. 

Then he realized he was not dead at all, just highly disoriented in a bed in the infirmary, behind white drapes in a white bed, with white hospital robes draped loosely about his bony frame. He had only a vague sense of how he'd gotten there, though he had a very clear notion that Sirius had groped him at some point.

He fully intended to take revenge.

Climbing down from his bed, he found his ankle no longer hurt, and he saw the splinters were gone from his hand when he pulled back the heavy drapes. His throat did hurt a bit though, and he cleared it, but to no avail. He was probably coming down with a cold, and Sirius would pay for that as well.

Madam Pomfrey's voice was coming from behind another set of drapes, and he paused to listen.

"Yes, Mr Potter, I understand," she was saying, "but what did you _do_ with your nose after Mr Black hexed it off?"

Severus snorted and ducked back behind his drapes for a moment as Pomfrey stormed out muttering about men and their utter lack of self-direction. And something about demanding a raise.

When the door shut behind her, he continued to another draped bed, from inside of which were coming faint whispers. The average person would never have made them out, but having shared a classroom, dormitory, and sometimes bed with Sirius for these past six years, Severus could've heard even his faintest whisper from full across the pitch in the opening minute of the Quidditch World Cup.

"He'll get over it, I promise, Moony," Sirius was saying, so low even Severus had to strain to catch it. "It's just that he doesn't understand. People with small minds are like that. Don't-- don't make that face, it'll be fine, you'll see… and even if Potter insists upon being a bigoted git, you'll always have me by your side, and… maybe this isn't the best time to say it, but… how I feel about you… Moony, I've never… I've never before felt the way I feel when… Remus, I…"

Severus drew back the drapes disdainfully. "So sorry to interrupt such a… touching moment."

What lie inside was about what he'd expected, Remus a particularly virulent shade of green and Sirius instantly going white as the drapes no longer surrounding him, yet leaning over the sick boy with a fierce sort of protectiveness. Severus snorted.

"Pathetic," he announced. He pulled the drapes back into place with a dramatic swish of fabric. It made him feel powerful.

Sirius flinched. "Merlin, Severus, your neck…"

"Do not address me, worthless dog," Severus ordered him.

"But it's all black and blue, you can see right where your fingers--"

"My hatred," Severus interrupted loudly, "burns so brightly I find myself nearly blinded. Shut up."

Remus looked sweaty and miserable even with Sirius stroking gently at his forehead. His Adam's apple worked up and down with a dry swallow, and the ragged breath he took sounded like what Severus had always imagined of a death rattle.

"Don't apologize, Lupin. Save your breath," Severus told him. "I have a lot of questions that need answering, and if you pass out before I'm satisfied, I may attempt to strangle someone other than myself."

Remus made a wounded sounding noise that Severus dutifully ignored. "For exactly how long have you been a werewolf?"

Sirius groaned. "Not now, Severus. You'll only upset yourself again, and if you puke, he's going to as well, and I'll have a huge mess to clean up!"

"How long?" Severus demanded, thinking Sirius had a huge enough mess on his hands as it was, he'd hardly notice a little puke.

An odd noise came from Remus's throat, and after swallowing once more, he wheezed, "…since I was… eight."

Severus blinked. "That's horrendous. Where did it bite you?"

Sirius's bottom lip was trembling like it had last night, but he did nothing more than wipe a cloth across Remus's brow.

"…shoulder…"

Severus nodded. "It must be fairly well-healed then, as I never noticed it… how long did it take to… do you remember what it felt like when… can you tell the full moon's approaching by… do find that lycanthropy affects your… wait, first I'd better ask if you've ever-- I need parchment. Black, fetch me parchment!" he ordered imperiously.

"What the bloody hell do you--"

"Notes!" Severus declared, his body suddenly buzzing at the possibility of interviewing a real live werewolf. "I was very nearly kibble, and I demand academic recompense!"

"You're mad," Sirius muttered, sounding vaguely awed.

"No," Severus countered, "I am brilliant and conniving. Parchment, quill and ink or I blab to everyone." He snapped his fingers. "Now."

Sirius shook his head and muttered something evil but consented. With a dip of his chin and a quick peck on Remus's forehead, he ducked out of the hospital drapes.

Severus crouched down beside Remus, thinking he looked ever so much sicker than usual. From Severus's angle by the side of the bed, the skin of his face looked like a greying, dead mask.

An Inferius.

Severus shivered.

"I presume Sirius told you everything," he said quietly. _About __how __I __told __everyone __what __you __and __Sirius __are __and __tried __to __get __you __expelled_, he tactfully did not say.

Remus cleared his throat with a sound like a choke, but said nothing.

Severus swallowed, taking a deep breath. "This is all Potter's fault, you know that, right?"

Remus coughed.

"He's jealous. He hates you being happy and having the boy you want when he won't ever have the girl he wants," Severus said, words springing from his mouth as of their own volition and making him feel a bit dizzy. "Very childish, if you ask me. Very childish. If only you'd been put in Slytherin, as any Dark Creature should, this would never have happened. I think you should petition for a Change of House. These Gryffindors are bad for your health, just look at you!"

For whatever reason, the rant made Remus look even worse, which Severus hadn't actually thought possible, since he'd seen prettier corpses. Well, only one, his grandmère, but still.

Luckily Sirius chose this moment to swoosh back in with pilfered writing implements. "Listen to him over there, moaning about his stupid nose like it's good for something other than looking stupid on his stupid face. Pathetic. He doesn't deserve you for a friend, Moony. He doesn't deserve toe lint for a friend."

This didn't seem to make Remus feel better either.

Severus unscrewed the cap to the ink, peering inside before screwing it back on again and setting it on the bed. He felt all itchy and wrong inside. "I take it from our continued collective presences that no one has been expelled. Whose kidneys were sold to keep us here? It'd better not be one of mine, as I happen to be using them both."

Sirius made a face. "Nobody's kidneys got sold. Everything's sorted out except for POTTER," he nearly shouted, head tilted toward the other occupied bed, "BEING A GIT!"

An unholy noise came from Potter's direction, likely him attempting to protest whilst still lacking a nose.

Sirius shrugged and turned to Severus. He looked very serious, as though he'd grown up ten years overnight and now possessed all the maturity of, say, a twelve-year-old. "It's fine. You just… you can't tell anyone, Severus. I'm not joking. No matter how upset you get, even if you feel you will surely explode from excess internal nastiness, you cannot. Tell. Anyone. About any of it. You have to promise to me, and to the Headmaster--"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, take your secrets to my grave--"

"Severus!" he warned.

"I had _reasons_ for saying what I did!" he insisted, feeling his face go red.

"Reasons like you're a very small person and you lash out when you feel threatened!" Sirius spat.

"That is not _reasons_," Severus fumed, "it is _a_ _reason_, and it is entirely untrue!" How dare Sirius say such things about him when he had no idea of the truth! This was not about Severus, this was about something-- some_one_-- infinitely greater, purer, and more essential to this world! "Don't you dare judge me, Sirius Black! I have people to protect too, you know!"

"Yeah? Well I hope she's worth it, Severus, because you are seriously _fucking __things __up_!"

Severus felt the colour drain from his face. How much did he know? Nothing, he couldn't know, there was no way. No one could know. Sirius was just, what was it, lashing out? Because he was a small person. That had to be it. Because he didn't know, he didn't understand.

Sirius never understood anything.

Sniffing loudly, Severus stood up. "You'd do well to keep your little doggy in line, Moony. If he keeps going around snapping at people, he'll have to be put down."

And with that, he promptly turned on his heel, returned to his own hospital bed, and puked all over his sheets.

* * *

Lily Evans slammed the cauldron down onto the table, splashing the pearl-like liquid over the tips of her fingers, and glared emerald daggers at Severus. "Just who do you think you are? My Mum?" 

"I'm only trying to protect you, Evans!" he insisted, tossing the bit of ginger root he'd been cutting onto the table. "It's not safe for you to be out unprotected on a night like this--"

"So I should go and hide in my room just because you say so," she snapped. "Because I'm so helpless and God _forbid_--"

"You're not listening to me! I am trying to shield you from a very real danger by keeping you _here_ tonight," he told her for what seemed the hundredth time. Though maybe he'd not actually said it before, as he'd been too busy watching her pretty hands stir the potion and wondering if they would feel as soft as they looked.

He imagined they did.

Evans threw him a disgusted look. Wiping her wet fingers on the side of her robes, she bent down over her finished potion, wafting the steam toward her nose.

She smiled suddenly and blissfully. "Smell," she implored, as though urging him into paradise.

Severus sighed heavily. "You're not listening to me. And, as I am a heartless Slytherin, I'm sure your Amortentia will have little to no effect on me. Power and evil dominion being odourless, of course."

"It'd probably smell like unwashed hair, since the only thing you love is yourself," she said somewhat dreamily, taking another deep breath of the steam.

Cheeks heating, Severus looked away from her, feeling as though he were interrupting something deeply personal and strangely erotic. "Keep my hair out of this. I'm saving you from Potter and his unholy machinations. You should be thankful," he told her, "and obedient."

Sighing and pulling herself away from some combination of scents that was obviously quite mouth-wateringly pornographic, Evans scowled at him. "What's Potter got to do with anything?"

Severus sighed. "They sneak out at night. Or rather, Lupin does, and the others help. Haven't you ever wondered…?" he stopped short, remembering his promise. But telling Evans wouldn't really count, would it? And even if it did, he felt duty bound, as well as bound by several other things he'd rather not think about while Evans was being so unscrupulously provocative over that damned potion.

"He's ill," Evans said, looking down longingly at the swirling liquid. "They say he's ill--"

"Every month at the full moon?" Severus asked, catching the delightful scent of mouldering books on the air.

"I know your theory," she responded, voice gone cold though the wistful look had not left her face, "but if you think the people you're hanging around with are safer, I've got news for you. Black may be a harmless twit, but… Avery and Mulciber, Sev… _Mulciber_!" she exclaimed, as though repeating it made it somehow more true. "Do you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?"

The night Severus had turned eight, his father staggered into his room, swearing and stumbling over his own feet, and shoved a ten pound note into Severus's small fist. He'd taken it back as soon as he'd realized his error, but the feel of the worn paper in his hands, the relish at the childish notion of buying his mother pretty new shoes, he could not take away. It was as though Severus was back there right now, warm in his bed and the possibility that he had something to give, so strong was the scent of printer's ink and damp pockets that drifted over him.

"Dump that rubbish down the drain, Evans," he commanded.

"James does awful things, yes, but he only does them because he's too much of an arrogant toerag to realize he's doing any harm," she continued, making no move to heed his orders. Indeed, she dipped her head down over the cauldron once more. "But Mulciber and Avery are… Sev, they're just evil…"

Severus threw her a look for daring to call Potter by his first name, itching to tell her how the boy had recently endeavoured to get him killed and was now unjustly ostracising Moony, but terrified she'd somehow find out he couldn't hold his bladder under stress. Catching the scent of something that made his heart skip a beat and knees tremble, he considered holding his nose against the smells, but quickly decided against drawing such undue attention to his most unfortunate appendage.

"Just because they're Slytherin doesn't make us bosom friends," he informed her coolly, working up an annoyance at being judged in the same league as someone who tortured his own rats to death. "In fact, I doubt I've ever spoken more than a half-dozen words to Avery, though if he's anything like Mulciber, I grant you leave to shove them both into that old Vanishing Cabinet, and good riddance to the pair. But despite their shortcomings, I have a fairly good idea neither of _them_ are going to eat you!"

Evans groaned. "Fine. Fine! I'll stay here tonight, though how a little wooden door could hold back a bloodthirsty werewolf, I have no idea. But if it's so important to you, I'll stay," she told him, now throwing her Amortentia a distrusting look. "On one condition."

Severus felt a tiny flame of triumph flickering in his chest. "Do tell."

Evans frowned and held up her hand for him to wait, and scrambled for something with a cork to pour the potion into.

Recalling the Veritaserum Incident, Severus wondered for a senseless moment if it smelled to her like Potter, before shaking the thought off as a nauseating creation of his own self-loathing. Even Severus's hair had to smell better than _that_.

"Hector Dagworth-Granger from the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers is coming to Professor Slughorn's last yearly soiree," Evans said, drawing Severus thankfully away from all thoughts of Potter smells. "Slughorn hinted to me in private about possible funded internships after NEWTs. It's a really great opportunity, and I want for you to come."

Severus rolled his eyes. "We've tried this before, Evans, and it did not end well. In fact, I happen to recall a certain amount of screaming involved. And besides, you know I hate Potions."

"Right," she agreed, "but you're coming this time."

"No," Severus retorted, crossing his arms across his chest, "I most assuredly am _not_."

Evans put her hands on her hips, cocked her head and regarded Severus through maliciously half-lidded eyes. "Actually, unless you prefer I go out werewolf hunting tonight, I think you are."

* * *

"I hate women," Severus told his reflection, trying to tuck the fraying edges of his collar into the green velvet dress robes he'd nicked from Aubrey's chest. He looked ridiculous, wearing a ratty old school shirt under winter dress robes in the middle of June. 

"Don't worry, darling," the mirror answered understandingly, "I'm sure they hate you too."

Severus sighed in defeat.

He'd tried to get out of it, but she'd sewn shut every loophole. "The only way I will accept your non-attendance is if you're in Azkaban," she'd told him with an intriguingly nasty look. "And if you skip out for any other reason, I'll put you there myself."

Blasted Evans with her womanly wiles. He could never resist her when she got domineering.

Or, you know, ever.

"I hate my life," he told the mirror, which had always seemed sympathetic to his woes.

It chuckled. "Don't blame you in the least."

Still inwardly cursing his clothing and unrepentant male hormones, Severus waited for Evans by the doorway to Slughorn's office, glaring at the partygoers as they walked past. This was stupid. He hated parties and he hated dress robes and he hated waiting and he hated parties. Tugging at his collar, he sniffed and set about glaring twice as hard at the other students in a show of his righteous displeasure.

He bet none of _them_ had been threatened into coming.

"Oh Sev, you look awful!"

Evans was wearing pale yellow robes of the type of fabric that clung to every curve, probably silk, and in the right light would undoubtedly be transparent. Her skin was the finest porcelain, her hair spilling in waves over one shoulder, her eyes so deep he could drown in them and die a happy death. Even the simple cross around her neck glittered like something more brilliant than life itself.

Severus felt incredibly stupid staring at her, just staring, as though nothing else in the world mattered. He wanted desperately to tell her what she did to him, that he was no more than a soppy puddle of awe-struck goo before her, that he would kill to touch her just once, press his lips to her throat and hands to her hips, but lacked the power to move his tongue.

I would worship you, he thought. I _do_ worship you.

"Are you listening to me?" she asked, and Severus then realized she'd been speaking.

"No," he told her, swallowing hard, "I was too busy picking my eyes up off the floor. Are you planning to obtain employment from this man or seduce him?"

She laughed and pulled him by his sleeve through the door.

Dagworth-Granger turned out to be a soft-spoken, grey-haired man with unreasonably long extremities. Evans flaunted herself before him, talking nonsense about "Wolfsbane Potion" while Severus seethed and supplied insensitive interjections. After a good half-hour, Severus had had enough and went to fetch himself some punch, plotting methods of escape. He was not above staging his own death.

"Having a good time, my boy?"

Severus turned to see Professor Slughorn, cheeks flushed, beaming at him from above a glass of mulled mead. He looked particularly pleased, as though this were the best party ever.

He was undoubtedly quite drunk.

Severus formed his lips into the closest approximation of a smile he could manage. "Fantastic time, sir." Oh, the words felt so very wrong!

"Ah, so good of Miss Evans to relay my message," he exclaimed, patting Severus sloppily about the back.

Severus blinked dazedly down at the punch, which was bubbly and pinkish with little bits of something orange floating on its surface. There had been a message? Evans had said nothing about any message, she'd just invited-- well, ordered-- him to come along with her…

"Sir," he began, but Slughorn was nowhere to be found, having disappeared by some strange magic into the crowd.

"Let's go, Sev."

Severus made a noise which he hoped conveyed his disgust, astonishment, and utter lack of willingness to do anything Lily Evans commanded him to do, but he feared fell flat. "Go _where_? What's going on? Slughorn just told me--"

"I need some fresh air. Let's _go_."

She grabbed his sleeve again and Severus began to protest, as she clearly had no right to manhandle him in such a manner when she'd been the one to insist upon him coming in the first place. "We can come back _later_," she hissed, not meeting his eyes, "come _on_!"

Fresh air turned out to mean a walk down by the lake, where the heavy robes Severus had stolen turned out to be suited to the cool evening air. It was odd walking outside with a girl, even if it wasn't really _walking __outside __with __a __girl_, as this was Evans, who'd rather snog Potter naked in the middle of the Great Hall than _walk __outside_ with Severus.

Evans was treading along the shore with her bare feet just touching the edge of the water, mud squishing up between her toes. She held her shoes, which were actually some sort of Muggle sandal, in one hand and twisted her hair with the other. He did his best not to notice how the fading sunlight played across her skin.

"I don't want to go home," she said rather suddenly, her fingers tightening on the straps of her sandals. "This is the first year I haven't wanted to go home."

Severus shrugged, not sure what to make of her comment. "We can't stay here forever."

"I know," she replied, seeming disheartened by the prospect. "But it'll be sad, don't you think? Graduating, I mean…"

"Oh yes, terribly sad having no one harping on us to finish our homework, get in by curfew, and behave ourselves else they'll take points," Severus said, oozing sarcasm. "However will we cope?"

Evans laughed a little, but then she sighed and sucked on her bottom lip. "I wish you'd've taken tonight seriously. I know you don't have any plans for work yet. It hardly matters if you like Potions or not, if it'll put food on the table."

"As I obviously have no prospects otherwise," Severus said, feeling bitter. It was true he had no plans, but he didn't need her shoving his nose in his own shortcomings. He did that enough himself.

"I'm just trying to help, I--" she said, falling quiet when he shot her a particularly spiteful glare.

"I can ruin my life perfectly well all by myself, thank you very much," he told her, not sure why he was feeling so irritable and snappy. How could one possibly feel irritable whilst walking around the lake at night with Lily Evans? What was wrong with him, anyway?

It was probably just that he wanted to squish his bare feet in the cool mud as well but couldn't on account of their being all odd-shaped from years of wearing too-small shoes.

"It's getting late. We should go in," he told her.

"Don't you think the sunset's pretty, reflected on the water like that? I love water, the ocean especially… do you like the ocean, Sev?" Evans was ankle deep in the lake, the tips of her yellow robes skimming the water, looking across the surface as though it were something special, like the sun didn't set every day and look exactly the same.

Sighing, he stepped toward her, feeling his shoes stick and wondering how many points he'd lose for tracking this much dirt into the castle. Deciding he couldn't care less, he stepped into the lake beside her, frowning as the water seeped through the warn leather of his shoes, likely ruining them. "I've never much cared for it, no."

Evans made an apologetic noise and swished her foot around in the water, bumping her sandals against his side in the process. "Sorry," she said, and switched them to the other hand.

"You're not cold?" he murmured.

She shrugged noncommittally and stared at the horizon, which blended from red to orange to the same yellow as her robes with the setting sun. Severus stared at it as well, thinking she might be on to something. It did look particularly stunning tonight, especially with the way it glittered across the water, playing amongst the ripples like jets of liquid light.

Evans was so close to him he felt her sleeve brush against his hand, but if she wasn't concerned, neither was he. It was odd though, and sort of nice, the soft way it was brushing against his skin.

And then he realized it wasn't her robes at all.

It was her little finger gently stroking against his.

Severus froze, eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. Oh Merlin, she was touching him. They were out by the lake at night without a chaperone and she was _touching __him_ and this could _not_ mean what he thought it meant but what _did_ it mean?

She didn't know what she was doing, that must be it. She was so mesmerized by the sunset that she had no conception her flesh was coming into actual physical contact with his. If she did, she would clearly be making disgusted faces and casting Scourgify.

Maybe if he said nothing, she wouldn't realize, and he might stand beside her all night just like this.

"I don't want to go home," she whispered.

And this he understood. Touching made sense when you didn't want to go home, or at least it had come to make sense as Severus had come to know Sirius. With a gesture so fluid it felt shockingly natural, Severus slid his little finger up Evans's and looped it over, hooking her finger with his and curling around it, like two links in a chain.

Evans didn't look at him, but he could tell she was smiling. "Wish I could go home with you," she said in a quiet voice.

Severus felt grim at the thought. "I hardly think you'd enjoy yourself at Spinner's End," he mumbled, giving her little finger a squeeze.

Evans froze. "What did you just say?"

Severus swallowed. He shouldn't've said it. He should've kept silent as planned. His big mouth was always getting him in trouble, and if she knew what sort of place he lived in--

She pulled her hand from his, bringing it to her mouth. "Did you say Spinner's End? In Derbyshire? Down by the river, by the..."

Severus stared at her, uncomprehending.

"I live on Helena Lane, just off Clark Street! You know the big house with the pool, I live just across the-- you don't live in Spinner's End, that is not possible. Sev, I live-- that's three miles from my house!"

He gaped at her, at a loss for words. The house with the pool-- the Richardses'-- had been the talk of the town a few years ago when the pool had first been put in--

Evans was tugging on the front of his dress robes, a wild look about her. "You're coming over."

Severus just stared at her, blank, not a single coherent thought in his entire head, except that this must be how Peter Pettigrew felt every moment of his life.

"… morning after we get back, you can Apparate over-- wait, that won't work, I'll have to Apparate--"

"Absolutely not," Severus declared, finally mastering his tongue. "Under absolutely no circumstances would I even _think_ of setting foot anywhere near your…"

But Evans was beaming, as though the thought of seeing him over the summer were better than a thousand Galleons in a pauper's pocket, or a man's first steps into freedom after a sentence in Azkaban.

"I hate you so much," he told her.

"This is going to be the best summer ever," she said brightly. "Let's go back in."

Later that night, Severus intended to dig a hole in the common room floor in which to conceal himself so as not to be forced to return to the impending horror he called home, only to have Sirius verbally accost him with lengthy and pointless tales of forthcoming summertime anguish and disinheritedly inadequate housing.

"And so, in summary, I'm staying at your place this summer," he stated, wrapping a solid arm around Severus's neck and dragging him into the corner, "and don't tell me no."

"What? No," Severus told him, attempting futilely to extricate himself.

"But there's no place for me to go!" Sirius whined, tightening his grip. "Moony's parents don't know, so I can't stay there! What am I supposed to do, sleep in the cabinet under Headmister Dumbledoodle's pensieve?"

"My parents don't even want _me_, and I never cause any-- kack! stop it, you're choking me!"

He let go. "Please? Pretty please with sugar on top? Syrup? Pretty, _pretty_ please, with topless redheads--"

Severus shoved at his face. "I'm not going to be home this summer."

"Where're you--"

"And never say _topless_ again in my presence. I am quite damaged beyond repair." Because he would be thinking it for _weeks_…

Sirius sighed and leaned against the wall. "Look, I know. I mean, I knew. Before I asked you. But what am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?"

Severus shrugged, wondering how he could ever look Evans in the face again, much less spend an entire summer in her presence, with the idea of her topless covered in syrupy sugar parading through his mind. "The cabinet's not taken?"

Sirius moaned theatrically.

Severus patted him rather violently on the back, not feeling the least bit apologetic. "Fear not, I shall owl you weekly."

"Daily," Sirius moaned. "Daily, if you love me at all!"

"Don't push your luck," Severus told him coldly. "I don't own an owl."

"Oh woe!" Sirius declared. "Woe and misery!"

And for once, he'd got it right.


	10. SUMMER WITH JAMES AND LILY

**Notes:** Sorry for the delay! Many thanks to Shoebox Project for Sirius's dubious grammar.

**CHAPTER 10: SUMMER WITH JAMES AND LILY**

"Lily!" the girl shouted. "One of your freak friends is here!"

Severus did his best not to gape.

He'd thought he'd got the wrong address when he'd rung the bell, expecting the vibrant red hair and shining eyes of his Evans. This girl who had answered, with her lank blonde hair and mouth like a horse, was as similar to Evans as a grindylow to a unicorn.

He had little time to ponder this conundrum though, as there came a sudden pounding of feet on the stairs. "Sev!"

At this Severus did gape, for Evans was wearing a pair of cream coloured trousers, and as often as he'd contemplated her legs, he'd never actually thought of them as two separate, separable objects, having only seen them from beneath their usual covering of robes.

It was not a terribly reassuring revelation.

"Come in, come in, I can't believe you actually came!" she beamed, looking about to pull him inside. "I'm so excited! Mary's in Transylvania, and I was resigned to having to spend the entirety of my holiday alone with Petunia!"

The horse-girl, evidently Petunia, made a snorting noise and tossed her hair over her shoulder as though it were a poorly-groomed mane.

Once inside, Evans turned to close the door, and Severus felt his face heat at the sight of her trouser-clad backside. "Women in trousers," he muttered, perturbed. "What will they think of next?"

Evans laughed. "You look funny in yours, too. My father has an old pair just like that. You think this is the first time the world has ever seen a Slytherin in Muggle clothes, you know, volunarily? Oh but come to the kitchen, you must be thirsty from the walk-- it's so warm outside, and your face is all red..."

Following her into the kitchen, having torn his eyes forcibly from her trousers, he couldn't help but notice how new the house looked. It was so light and clean and pretty, with portraits of smiling people on the walls in shiny silver frames and white lace doilies on the end tables. The open windows were large and bordered by embroidered draperies, there were plush, gold coloured rugs on the floor, and the chairs looked as though they'd rarely been sat in.

Severus sat down at the little shiny-topped table beneath the window. Its curtain was loose and tickled his neck, blowing in the sweet-smelling breeze from outdoors.

"Oh, let me get that," Evans offered, reaching behind him to tie the fabric back. Her side brushed his shoulder, and he was reminded of that night by the lake, and pretty-please-with-sugar-on-top, and the insanity of it all.

For a moment it was nearly too much, culture shock of a sort, and he wished desperately for a paper bag into which he might hyperventilate with his head between his knees and Evan's hand on his back. But she sat a cool glass of water onto the table before him, and touching it somehow centred him, and he managed to drink without blacking out.

"Does father know you have a boy in the house?"

Petunia was scowling down at Severus, her arms crossed and lips pursed. She looked like a brooding mare.

"Were you adopted?" Severus asked her, still a little dizzy.

Evans laughed and slid down into the chair across from him, taking a sip of her own water. "You are easily the most charming man I have ever met, Severus."

Looming malevolently above them, Petunia made a disgruntled snort of a noise.

"Well, that explains why you're so very deeply in love with me," Severus told her, raising his glass in a mock toast.

This comment was apparently more amusing than he'd thought, as Evans nearly choked on her water, spitting it all down her front.

Dabbing at her blouse with a towel whilst Evans wiped away tears of mirth, maybe a bit hysterical, Petunia glared at him. "I know who you are," she said. "You're that Snape boy. You live down Spinner's End by the river," she said, and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation.

Not that Severus blamed her.

"Congratulations," he drawled, "you win the prize. Is there something you hope to accomplish by informing me of this? Did you suppose I'd forgotten?"

Petunia sniffed, tossing the towel down onto the table. "I'm telling father. You're not allowed boys in the house, and you know it!"

Evans rolled her eyes. "No Petunia, _you're _the one who's not allowed boys in the house. Father's never mentioned it to me because I've never done. And besides, though he may not seem it, unlike the boys you bring home, Severus is a perfect gentleman."

Petunia spluttered as though she had no idea which boys Evans might be referring to and was highly offended that anyone might think she would consider being in the presence of such questionable individuals.

"Oh stop," said Evans with another eye roll. "We're going to revise Arithmancy and practice Charms, not snog. Is that all you think about?"

With an indefinable noise that suggested it just might be, the other girl turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

Severus stared down into his half-empty glass of water. "What's her problem? Other than the obvious bitterness from being constantly overshadowed by her more beautiful and talented younger sister."

Evans snorted-- rather more prettily than her sister-- and looked pleased with herself. "She's convinced she'll never find a decent husband because Father wouldn't allow her to attend finishing school. She's been blubbering about it since last year, how she's already nineteen and it's a disgrace she's not engaged yet. I told her she's finished enough, stop whinging."

Severus was impressed. "Where's that oft-touted Gryffindor magnanimity, Evans?"

"I do not tout my Gryffindor magnanimity." She smiled over the rim of her glass, her lips quirking in amusement. "I am not a touter."

Severus smirked. "Touché."

It turned out to be a pleasant day, indeed.

* * *

It felt odd being able to do magic outside of school. He was so used to locking his wand in the secret compartment in his dresser every summer, Severus felt as if it might be whisked out of his hand at any moment and broken in half over a disapproving Ministry Official's knee.

It was odder still sitting one dreary Thursday on a modern Muggle sofa with a Charms book in his lap and wand in his hand, attempting to grow chrysanthemums from the coffee table.

"Why do I keep ending up with violets?" Evans asked, swishing her wand unnecessarily at the unwanted flowers. "This is really disturbing."

Severus gave his own, dead-looking posies a sideways glare but said nothing.

Yanking her violets out by the roots, Evans tried the spell again, and this time her violets were yellow.

"This is a very dodgy table, Evans," Severus told her. "I don't trust it."

She frowned. "At least it's not spewing stinkweed. Or roses, I've hated those ever since fourth year when Black serenaded me on his broomstick and tried to shove them in through my dormitory window. A shame he didn't fall and break his neck. Are you hungry?"

She was always asking if he was hungry. It was evidently some sort of womanly instinct, this irreconcilable compulsion to feed people. He supposed it was a good thing, since her father was in London often on business and left her to fend for herself. He did some sort of trading, though Severus didn't quite understand what he traded or why anyone would want to trade things in the first place.

Arriving every morning at a house without a parent was pleasant, if a little strange, and it led to another question:

"Where's your mother?" Severus asked one afternoon over her Ancient Runes text, which he was borrowing, as he'd neglected to pack his own. The pages were snowy white, and her loopy cursive looked elegant in the margins.

Evans frowned. "She got sick."

"And what, ran off with another man?" Severus said with a snort.

"And died!" Evans said, looking insulted. "Third year!"

"Well don't snap at me," Severus snapped, feeling horrible. "I didn't kill her!"

"I didn't say you--" she sighed and shut the antiquated Herbology guide he'd brought over. "She just got sick. And before the doctors figured out what was wrong... would you like some pudding?"

The only bad thing about the food was that Petunia seemed to always be in the kitchen, and her neighs of disgust at anything related to magic were highly unappetising. After a week or so, Severus arrived early and caught her complaining to Evans about him over breakfast.

"--most disagreeable, _ugliest _boy I've ever met. Honestly, Lily, what do you see in him?" Severus heard her demand sharply from the front walk.

He paused beside the open window, just out of sight, to catch the rest.

"He's _brilliant_, Petunia," Evans replied, much to Severus's complete agreement and distinct pleasure. "He's disagreeable because he _can_ be. Remember how I told you about the different houses--"

"Stop!" Petunia ordered. "Stop, I don't want to hear it! All of your preposterous magical--"

"He's brilliant and I like him," Evans told her, with a tone of finality. "Besides, he'd as soon touch me as hex his own fingers off, so you needn't worry. He has this whole idea of scholarly abstinence, or so he says. Personally, I think he's bent."

"I am most _certainly _not!" Severus announced, glaring in through the window.

Evans gasped and Petunia let loose a startled shriek. He ignored it and proceeded to let himself in with an offhanded Alohomora. "If you're going to gossip, you might want to close the window," he counselled the girls upon entering the kitchen.

Petunia looked horrified with herself, but Evans just shrugged. "I'd've told you to your face."

"My ugly, disagreeable face," Severus clarified.

"I call it like it see it," she told him flatly, looking unconcerned.

His witty comeback was cut short by a fluttering near the window screen. Petunia clapped a hand over her mouth and pointed, a horror-struck look on her face.

"Owl post? I bet it's from Mary!" Evans declared, and shot toward the window with obvious delight. Petunia screamed when the owl swooped into the room, and ran out of the kitchen.

The letter had Severus's name scrawled across the front though, and Evans handed it over in disappointment.

_Dear Severus_

_I am going to kill myself. Now I know what you're going to say, I'm being melodramatic but I am NOT JOKING. My life is such a wreched repulsive stinking pile of dung I can't stand it anymore. I am going to Avada Kedavra myself right in the brainpan and hide the body in a tragic locale so that all shall see my woeful demise and morn my passing with all the loud sobbing and runnynosedness that is my unfortunate due._

_I know that by now you are terribly concerned Severus as you should be, and let me tell you your concern is not misplaced. After spending mere days surounded by the delights of Hogwarts, all the chicken I can eat flying my broom through the halls and hanging the cristal Divination balls from the ceiling in the Great Hall (also free access to the restricted section, I know you're jelous I found a book on Vampires you'd have wet dreams over) I am morn to tell you I'm being forced to leave quite against my will._

_This is all those bloody Gryffindors fault AGAIN and they are set on ruining MY LIFE all accept Moony of course who is delicious and nutricious and all other things benefical. But of course Dumbledore being the most Gryffindor of them all he's gone and packed me off to Courage and Rightousness Training Camp mainly I HAVE TO LIVE WITH POTTER THIS SUMMER._

_I know I shouldn't have just gone right out and said it like that I'm sure you're appalled and in fits, because you are so delicate but I'll probably have to sit for twelve hours a day with his great great great grandfather around the fire and listen to old war stories or look at baby pictures or something and I am going to KILL MYSELF._

_Please morn me by making Reguluses life a living Hell. Also if you feel the need to comfort my Moony in his greif at my loss I have been putting some serious though to the issue and feel I would be COMPLETELY ALRIGHT WITH THIS._

_Sirius_

The only reason Severus actually managed to make it through the entirety of such an utterly appalling correspondence was because of his unbelievable horror that someone could actually compose such a disaster. He stared down at the messy signature at the bottom of the parchment with a sort of disgusted awe.

"He'd better kill himself before he goes or they'll both end up dead," Evans observed from over his shoulder.

"Do you _mind?_" Severus asked, snatching the letter away.

"No, I'm rather looking forward to it, actually. You know how sick I am of James constantly pestering me about going out with him," she told him.

"Oh, the woes of the rich and beautiful." Severus rolled his eyes and snatched up a quill to respond to Sirius's horrific excuse for a letter. He let Evans read it.

_Sirius_

_What appals me even more than the fact that you are spending the summer with a Gryffindor (which is, it is obvious, a fate worse than death) is the fact that although you have spent six long years at the finest Wizarding school in the world, you have yet to master even the most basic use of the comma. I have a very hard time drumming up even a modicum of sympathy for someone who writes letters with punctuation that makes my eyes burn. Additionally, you spelled at least ten things wrong, including your own bloody brother's name. For the record, it is clearly impossible to hide your own dead body, you cannot BE mourn over something (note the spelling), I am assuredly NOT delicate and you had better not die, as I have no intention of comforting anyone, much less someone who has the poor taste to snog a man as grammatically challenged as yourself._

_Please review this letter, taking careful note of my spelling and multiple and correctly placed commas, before you respond back with your suicide notice. Will me your socks, or heads shall roll._

_Severus_

Evans made a sort of amused snorting noise as he hooked the note to the owl's leg. "What is it with you two?"

"He used to be rich. I thought I might get something out of the deal," he told her with a shrug. "As for him-- being such an obvious poof that he even gives his _roommates_ a bad name-- ever since he was eleven, his sole aim has clearly been to get into my--"

He almost said _pants_, before he remembered the incident in which she saw his, hanging upside down and helpless, and caught himself, blushing furiously.

"Your notes?" Evans offered, grinning.

"I'll have you know my notes are _fantastic_, Evans," he told her with a dark look.

"I'm sure they are. Rather fond of them myself," she responded coyly, which wasn't fair play at all and made Severus's blush darken. "I'll never understand what Remus has to do with any of this, though. I thought you two liked him."

"I respect his intelligence," Severus told her. "One of the only Gryffindors I've ever met who actually possesses any, despite his rather more disturbing lupine tendencies. Sirius, on the other hand, respects his… _notes_. And also his shabby jumperiness. Cardigans drive him wild with lust, you see."

"You're out of your skull," Evans informed him with a roll of her eyes.

"Don't claim I never told you," Severus ordered, quite certain she would and thus assuring himself the right to call her on it. "Or be a dunderhead like Potter and act like there's something wrong with them. I mean, there are obviously any _number_ of things wrong with them both, but who cares if they snog in random broom closets? You can't legitimately pick on someone for something like that. It's too easy."

"You're ridiculous," Evans informed him. "Now are we going to revise the magical properties of the number 42, or not?"

On the second week the temperatures skyrocketed, the neighbours were out of town, and Evans decided to break into their pool.

"Come on, no one will catch us, I do it all the time," she urged. "We'll just take a quick dip. It'll be fun."

Severus, failing to see any way in which removing any part of his clothing in Evans's presence might be considered fun, stared at her, appalled. She put her hand on her hip, raised her eyebrows, and he ducked his head.

"Fun like drowning in a pool of my own bodily fluids, perhaps," he muttered at his shoes, feeling intensely jealous of Sirius, whose body was sleek and swimming pool-worthy. He hoped he was completely and utterly miserable at Potter's.

"I'm putting on my bathing suit," Evans announced.

If Severus had grasped the enormity of this phrase, he would've decided to lock himself up _before_ she came back wearing it.

"Bathing suit" was a misnomer. What she had on was a quarter of a bathing suit, a _tenth_ of one that covered no more than underclothes would, likely _less_, baring her long legs, pale, smooth stomach and the delicious looking curve of her breasts. Held up on the top by a single, weak looking string tied around her neck, it would be so simple to slip his hand over her shoulder, beneath her hair and take the end of that fabric in his fingers--

"Do you like it?" she asked with an innocent smile. "It's new."

Severus gaped, cheeks flaming. "And you wear this in _public? _You're actually going to-- I can see your-- does your father know you-- PETUNIA!"

Evans blinked. "What're you--?"

"Scandalous!" Severus shouted, body thrumming with desire. "Immoral! Wicked! Depraved!"

"Oh, _Lily!_" Petunia gasped, appearing in the room. "You can't _seriously_ be planning to--"

"It's a _bathing suit!_" Evans exclaimed, looking baffled and tugging on one of the skimpy straps. "Father picked it out with me!"

"You look like you should be _standing on a street corner!_" Petunia shrieked, horrified.

"Have you no _shame?_ Merlin's sake!" Severus exclaimed, and stamped off past Petunia to the bathroom to hide his own, very obvious, shame.

"You're both loony tunes!" he heard Evans exclaim. "I'm going for a bloody swim!"

Severus's nice, calming stay in the bathroom was interrupted, of course, by another owl from Sirius, because the boy very obviously lived to pester him.

_Severus_

_Merlin's beard, I am going to KILL myself! Mostly because I am still pleasantly tipsy and parading about semi nude near open windows. I am, however, NOT tipsy enough to ever again underestimate the value of the common comma, a fault which also earned me Moony's eternal scorn and lack of sultry exclamations at my manly physique. _

_Potter's family are the BEST EVER. His Mum lets us drink and stay up all night and explode things in the bath tub, or maybe she just doesn't realize because she's about a billion years old and probably seanile. That bloke you saw with him, the great grandfather old type is Potter's FATHER! At first of course, I was disgusted and appalled and comprehensively sickened, but then I figured, I hope I can still get it up when I'm eleventy-eight or whatever, that takes SKILL, and I'm okay now so you can relax. _

_Also they have this Muggle thing called a Telly Vijin, it's got these little metal demon ears on it and a weird tail Potter calls a "plug" and it's got Muggles trapped inside it that dance and talk and say the news when you poke at its buttons. It's BRILLIANT! Potter is of course, a blathering idiot as usual, but we've only been to St Mungo's once to reverse the hexes. Do you have any idea what it's like to have eyebrows that droop down to your knees? Not on, Severus, not on!_

_Write me back imediately and tell me how appalled you are._

_Sirius_

Severus debated ripping the letter to shreds, burning it, or writing a seven page essay complete with footnoted references in response. Eventually, he opted for the middle ground: he wrote INDESCRIBABLY at the bottom of the parchment and sent the owl on its way with it. Leave it to Sirius Black to actually _enjoy _himself in exile with Potter whilst Severus was in continual presence of the most amazing girl on the planet, and he could do nothing but lock himself in bathrooms.

Everyone on the planet had a better life than Severus, and this proved it.

For some unknowable reason, after the Great Swimsuit Debacle, Petunia decided she and Severus were allies. She stopped all her pointless horse-snorts, asked him how he liked his eggs, and even conceded that "at least Spinner's End isn't someplace _magic_."

Severus was wary of this change of heart, but Petunia did make excellent eggs, and a Muggle was hardly a decent challenge for him, anyway.

"I was so worried about the sort of boy she might bring home, spending her formative years in a place like that," she told him in the kitchen a few mornings later when Evans was getting the post. She was washing dishes in the sink, scrubbing at them with something soapy and green, having adamantly refused Evans's kind offer of cleaning charms. "I'm so glad she found a reasonable, modest one with her best interests in mind."

Though Severus had to admit the girl had better taste than he'd thought, he took issue with her phrasing. "She did not _bring me home_," he clarified, shifting in his chair, drumming on the table with his fingers now that he no longer had breakfast to pick at. "I'm here to revise and study for next year, and nick free food, not in a _bringing home _capacity. We're not even friends. We're from different Houses, we despise each other by nature."

"Well, I still think she's made a very wise choice," Petunia stated, sniffing and scrubbing harder at a large skillet.

Severus was about to tell her exactly what he thought about her thoughts on her sister's choices that weren't actual choices at all (or maybe they were, but not the ones Petunia thought they were) when Evans walked back in, tossing a stack of bills onto the table. She was wearing a skirt today, her calves bare, but after having seen her bellybutton (oh MERLIN, her _belly_button!), Severus felt he could handle almost anything and didn't even wince more than once or twice.

"I'm bored," Evans announced, sliding into the chair opposite him. "Aren't you bored? Let's do something. D'you play poker?"

Severus blinked.

Evans beamed. "I have the perfect idea," she declared, and tugged him out the back door.

The perfect idea turned out to be the two of them sneaking onto her neighbour's patio and playing cards under the cover of a large yellow sun umbrella. It was warm beside the large swimming pool, the morning sun reflecting off the concrete that circled it, and Severus unbuttoned and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt (though only halfway up his forearms, as heat was no excuse for impropriety). Evans laughed and smiled and did all those things he couldn't get enough of, twirling her long red hair around her fingertips all the while.

She was wretched at poker.

After some time, Petunia came out to scold Evans with a tray of sandwiches and sliced fruit, telling her sister it was a good thing Severus was there to look after her. It was a pleasant and friendly meal once Evans had chased her sister off, and she amused herself by flicking grapes at Severus's forehead whenever he looked down at his plate.

"This ceased to be amusing approximately ten seconds before it started," Severus informed her.

"Ten seconds?" Evans asked, sucking rather indecently on a piece of melon. "Not twelve? Or nine? I think it's more like nine. Eleven? You're no fun."

"Yes, Sirius, but what have you done with Lily Evans?" he asked, and rolled his eyes. She laughed, and he picked up a delicately-cut sandwich quarter and fought back the urge to throw it at her. Turning it over in his hand, he pondered the amalgamation of random animal parts this misguided society dubbed "lunchmeat," a sickly sort of brown colour against the white of the bread, and suddenly missed Sirius something awful.

It wasn't that Sirius particularly liked sandwiches or was sickly, or lunchmeat-like in any way, so it didn't make logical sense in the least, but he very desperately hoped that Sirius and that imbecile Potter were truly getting along as well as Sirius had made them out to be. He wasn't sure how he could live with himself if they weren't.

"Sometimes I wish I knew what you were thinking," Evans said with a snicker as another grape plunked off Severus's forehead.

Severus scowled and poked at his Sirius-meat, squishing a corner of it between his fingers. Disgusting. "It's called Legilimency," he mumbled.

Evans sighed. "Most boys I wish I knew less about because all they think of is cars or girls or Quidditch, or the best way to hex their arch rival's head down a toilet or something. You're… different. What's Legilimency?"

"I think of Quidditch," Severus countered, feeling put-out for no good reason. Though the grape that nearly hit him in the eye probably hadn't helped. Giving up on the sandwich, he plopped it down and ate the grapes rolling around on his plate instead.

"No, seriously, from the Latin... it's mind reading, isn't it? Tell me!" Evans insisted. When he said nothing, the cool squish of the grape filling his mouth, she added, "You know, I think I dropped that one before I threw it at you."

For a moment, he was sorely tempted to spit the grape at her, but he decided not to, mostly because he'd have likely spat it all over himself instead. He wasn't in the habit of random expectoration like some people he knew, people who were _not _eating dirty grapes and missing their idiot dormitory mates who completely didn't deserve it. He swallowed, glared, and said, "It's not mind reading, Evans. The mind is not a book to be opened and examined at will. The art of Legilimency allows its user to delve into the mind of a victim, and with proper training, to correctly interpret the findings," he informed her, which he decided was a fairly good explanation considering he'd never actually tried it.

"Sounds like mind reading to me," Evans told him with a shrug, twirling a soft looking strand of her hair around her fingers. "Do we learn that next year?"

Severus attempted to roll his eyes but failed to look away from those fingers. "Yes, because it's a terribly wise idea to teach schoolchildren to read each others' minds."

"But _you _can do it, right?" Evans prompted, a smirk twisting on her lips. "It sounds like a Dark Art, and if anyone knows Dark Arts, it's you."

Severus should've seen through this a mile away. Evans was a Gryffindor and always thought she knew more than everyone else in the universe, and admitting Severus knew something she didn't-- and sounding impressed about it-- was a sure sign of trouble. Severus should've known not to mention that he'd a volume on the subject at home (Sirius had nicked it from the restricted section for him some time ago). He should've known and kept his idiot mouth shut.

But Evans had this pink polish on her fingernails. She'd been wearing it for three days now, and it was chipping off her right index finger, just the bit at the tip, and it looked horrible next to her red hair, yet perfect all the same, and all Severus could think of that moment was whether he could chip the rest of it off with his teeth.

He hated when his mind did these terrible things to him. It seemed as though a block of time were somehow missing from recollection, wrapped up in pink fingertips, red hair and deep green eyes, and the next thing he knew, they were going to his bloody house to get the bloody book.

Merlin, why didn't he just _Avada Kedavra _himself in the brainpan already?

* * *

The doorknob on the front door wiggled, and even with magic you could never get it open the first try. Evans stood by his side as he fussed with it, arms crossed in front of her, looking curiously down the street. When he'd finally worked door open, he held it for her, wishing in vain it would smell better inside than out.

Severus should be angry that she'd connived her way into a visit, or ill because his home was the worst place on the planet, or nervous because she'd never want to speak to him again afterwards. But he couldn't.

He only felt numb.

Mother was at the kitchen table huddled over one of her Gobstones books, hair hanging limp in front of her face. When she caught sight of Evans, she swung an arm over to cover the moving illustration and scowled. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"I--" Evans started, but Severus stopped her.

"A classmate of mine, from Hogwarts. Lily--"

"What're you doing here?" Mother asked through the curtain of her hair, brow creased above her nose and lips pressed together in a firm, hard line as she glared at Evans.

"We're just getting something, she won't be a bother at all," Severus told her. "Go back to your reading, Mother, please."

Evans looked uncomfortable, her gaze flicking from the cracked window above the washbasin to the spotted vegetables on the dented old sideboard to Mother's rough, nervous hands rubbing at the ink smudged page of her book.

"Hurry up, then!" Mother snapped, whipping her head down to her book, her hair falling around the pages like a shroud.

"Sorry," Evans murmured as they turned toward the sitting room.

"Don't wake your father, boy!" Mother shrieked after them. It was the only sign she acknowledged his presence, and Evans winced.

Father was passed out on the threadbare old couch, his mouth hanging open, snoring from the back of his throat, and stinking worse than a brewery. He wouldn't have woken if the Express had run through the hall.

"My room's upstairs," Severus told Evans, nodding his head toward the chipped banister and worn, uneven steps.

"Could I, ah," she began, regarding the staircase with apprehension. "The bathroom. Sorry, I…"

"Out back," Severus told her.

She looked at him oddly, and he sighed and led her through the kitchen to the back door.

Mother glared up at her accusingly from the pages of her book but said nothing, merely shifting her feet in their stained house slippers.

The back door never closed properly, sagging on its loose hinges, and Severus let it hang open as he led her to the toilets. An old woman was filling a basin with water at the pump, her faded dress hanging limply about her thin frame and cheap shoes fraying at the toes. A teenaged girl with stringy brown hair was leaning up against the building near her, back against the cool brick, smoking a fag. She looked about seven months gone.

"Mind where you step," Severus advised, motioning toward the flaking blue paint of the door.

Evans chewed at her bottom lip, threw him an unreadable look, and pressed the door open.

Severus sighed, ran his hand through his dirty hair, and wondered if Sirius were thinking of him. Which was stupid. If there were any one thing Sirius Black was NOT doing at this moment, it was assuredly _thinking_. Unless of course it was about new and fantastic methods of snogging Remus Lupin silly, or a spell to shoot chewing gum up first years' noses or something. That was pretty much his limit, thinking-wise.

But then, no one ever thought of Severus if they had anything better to do.

He couldn't blame them.

Evans came back out looking flushed, and a voice told him, "Pretty girl, Severus."

He blinked and looked to the side of the building where the pregnant girl was standing. "Too pretty for a place like this," she told him, sounding hard and worn and much too old for someone who couldn't have been much older than Severus himself.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice cold as he pressed a hand against Evans's back to lead her away, "do I know you?"

The girl laughed and took one last drag before throwing the dog-end down and grinding it into the ground with the toe of her dusty shoe. "Funny," she told him, and he thought maybe he did remember her at that, a cute little girl with dimples who laughed at his jokes and made him mud pies in the stagnant summer puddles so many years ago, but he couldn't be sure. Everyone around here ended up looking the same in the end. She could've been anyone.

Back in the house after Severus set the door properly into place with a sharp jerk, he _Accio_-ed the bloody book and handed it to Evans. _Legilimency for the Close-minded: How to Open Your Mind to Others' Minds_ shone in gold lettering on the front cover.

"Hope you're happy now," he told her.

She blinked down at the book, and then back up at him, speechless.

"I don't want to see your face around here again, you hear me?" Mother demanded of Evans as Severus fumbled with the front door handle. "You keep your pretty, pampered little nose out of our business, little girl!"

Evans said nothing, chin to her chest and eyes on her toes.

Severus finally wrenched the door open and grabbed Evans by the forearm. "Goodbye, Mother," he said.

She glared not at Severus but at the open doorway, which was infinitely more important to her than her own son, her cold sneer and the still purplish blossom of colour around her blackened left eye visible through the greasy strands of her hair.

Severus shut the door against the image.

* * *

"You could stay here tonight," Evans offered. "Honestly, it'd be no trouble."

She'd already baked him two cakes, scrambled him a half dozen eggs and made him three Sirius-meat sandwiches with olives and cheese. She had not mentioned their visit to Spinner's End, and _Legilimency for the Close-Minded_ sat unopened on the coffee table. After a silent moment, she added, "We'd be able to start revising straight away. NEWTs are not even three hundred days away, and don't tell me you haven't been keeping track. I'll bet you've got it down to the minute."

It wasn't obvious whether she pitied him now, or looked down on him, but she must, and he didn't want to contemplate it because he felt terribly drained and doubted he could do it with proper rancour. What he did want to do was accuse her of attempting to take advantage of his virginal innocence in his sleep, but he felt it would come out flat.

Especially when, after all she'd just put him through, he was now imagining her in her nightgown. So he merely grunted and poked at a rubbery yellow chunk of egg.

Evans sighed, leaning up against the stove with an apron wound round her middle and a spatula in one hand. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It's hardly your fault," he told her, eyeing with suspicion the way her fingers wrapped around the spatula handle. "I should've mentioned I like them sunny side up. How were you to know my long standing relationship with half cooked egg yolk?"

"I'm not talking about the eggs," she said. "Though you could've said something before I used them all."

"I know what you're talking about," he told her, and smashed the egg through the tines of his fork. "And I wish you wouldn't."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, forget it happened?" she asked. "Act like nothing's changed?"

"That would be splendid," he told her. "Don't you know any spells to unscramble eggs? And you call yourself a cook? What good are you?" He glared at the mess of his fork, egg stuck in clumps between the tines and one largish glob plopping back down onto his plate, because all he could think of was her chipped nail polish and its place within the soft circle of fingers wrapped around the length of that ubiquitous kitchen implement.

Merlin, what was _wrong _with him?

"I don't disrespect you, you know," she said. "I mean, the opposite really, I… I had an idea, you know, of what it might be like, but seeing it just made me feel--"

Severus looked up from his eggy mess, startled. "Is this talk going to involve feelings?" he demanded. "Because I am not in the mood to discuss feelings with you. Or anyone. Ever."

"Sev--"

"No feelings!" he declared. "And for the love of Merlin, put down that bloody spatula!"

Evans sighed and shook her head, glancing at the spatula and tossing it into the sink. "I guess this means you're not spending the night."

"I was never spending the night," Severus informed her, "even before you humiliated me."

"But I didn't mean--"

"And what did you _think _would happen? What did you think you would see?" he demanded. "Had you no idea the sort of place it was?"

"I didn't…" Evans sighed. "I didn't think."

"I'm shocked," he said. "And by shocked, I mean--"

"Sev--"

"I'm _sorry_, alright?" he spat. "I'm sorry I'm poor and my house is old and my family are awful, and I'm ugly and cruel and don't like to acknowledge my feelings! I'm sorry you're rich and pampered and out of touch with reality and more concerned with how you look in your bathing suit than how other people feel about you wearing it, and most of all I'm sorry I'm not James bloody _fucking_ Potter!"

He didn't quite know where it came from. He wasn't angry, and he didn't want to hurt her, or himself. Habit maybe. Probably. But honestly, James Potter? What was he thinking?

Evans didn't take it right, either. She should've slapped him. In her place, _he _would've slapped him. But instead, she stood there looking distraught, her eyes large and bottom lip trembling like Sirius had that one time in third year when he'd eaten eight chocolate frogs, two boxes of Bertie Bott's, six jelly doughnuts, seventeen Fizzing Whizbees, and drank seven glasses of pumpkin juice all within the space of forty minutes.

"Stop it!" he snapped.

Evans's nose went pink but she didn't stop. She looked open, innocent and hurt, and Severus wanted very suddenly and urgently to kiss her.

It was likely the worst moment of his life.

"Sirius would've raised an eyebrow and asked if I were finished!" he announced because there seemed no alternative, and stormed out the door.

* * *

Severus spent the next four days sulking in his bedroom in an utterly rotten mood, avoiding all thoughts of Evans, and _Avada Kedavra_-ing flies to kill time. And, of course, flies.

His room was sweltering, and his hair stuck to his forehead in greasy clumps, wand slippery in his sweaty hand. It was a fitting punishment though, for being so stupidly hormonal. He was never thinking of kissing again, and he swore this to himself-- No kissing!-- three dozen times per day.

Possibly four.

He finally decided he'd had enough-- enough of what, he wasn't entirely sure, but even the Killing Curse could get old after a time-- and cleaned himself up and made his now accustomed trek to the respectable part of town.

As he let himself into the kitchen, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he was greeted by a man sitting at the table reading the paper. He was tall and dressed in a well tailored blue suit, with ginger hair and a bristly moustache. "Might I be of assistance?" he asked pleasantly.

Severus blinked.

"Dad, would you like me to fix you a-- oh." Evans stood in the doorway with her Charms text in her hands and a look on her face that would've been quite at home on Narcissa Black. Fortunately, whatever she'd been feeling the other day that had given him the crazy idea to press his lips against hers had subsided.

Good, he thought. No kissing. "Have you finished the book?" he asked.

Evans blinked. "You scream at me and storm out the door and don't come back for nearly a week, and you're asking me--"

"I assumed it would've given you enough time, but if not," he offered with a shrug.

"Would you like to introduce me to your friend, Lils?" her father asked.

"I don't even know if he _is _my friend," Evans answered.

Severus was appalled. "Of course I'm not your friend! Whatever would give you such a preposterous idea? I don't have friends!"

"Right, no feelings, no friends. Fine. Perfect! What about Sirius Black?" she demanded. "You've been talking about him practically non-stop all summer. He's not your friend?"

"Sirius Black is an idiot of the highest order and requires my assistance for the simplest of tasks. You should know this, he once offered you dancing gnomes in pink rompers as a display of his unending love," he told her.

"Perhaps I'll just wait in the sitting room," Mr Evans offered with a agreeable smile and nod toward Severus.

"What is _wrong _with you?" Evans asked when the door shut behind her father. She looked oddly imperious with her hands on her hips, Charms text folded in against her forearm, wearing a shiny yellow shirt and blue jeans with belled ankles. They must be new because he hadn't seen them before, and Severus gaped at how the fabric tightened at the knee, sweeping up in slick lines of denim to the vee between her thighs.

"Hello, my face is up here," she announced.

Severus's cheeks flushed, but he held his ground. "I'm not looking at your face. Can't you tell? You really _do _need that Legilimency book."

Evans sighed and turned, leaving Severus to stare at the gold stitching on the pockets across her backside. He shook his head and looked away.

"You know, sometimes I really can't stand you, Severus Snape. Would you like some bloody eggs?" Evans demanded.

"I thought you'd never ask," Severus told her with a sigh of relief, and slouched down into his seat at the table, back where he belonged once more.

* * *

The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, Evans was humming a Beetles tune, and Severus had his sleeves rolled up again on the neighbours' patio as he waded uncertainly through the murky shallows of another of Sirius's letters.

_Darling Severus_

_I haven't written lately for fear any further stories involving Potter's stupid git face and ridiculous hair should send you into ireconcilable fits of fury and straight to Azkaban for lighting some poor old woman's wig on fire or maybe her panties, the huge white ones that pull up halfway to her tits, and for this I was extremely remiss. Proper communication in a relationship is worth a pair of singed panties, I know this now. I could go on and on about my summer, especially Moony's new found appreciation for my highly provocative use of punctuation, but I fear you would burn this letter in all your pyromaniacal ways if I were even to mention his sultry estimation of my--_

--Severus gagged and skipped down a good half page just to be entirely sure he never discovered the subject of Remus's sultry estimation--

_--and so I'll get straight to the point: it should've been you. I've put in a protest with Dumbledip because he's obviously got himself distracted from actual reality by all the potatos he's growing in his beard. I'd guess they've grown very large by now and quite heavy. So I'm sorry, but my hands are tied and not in the fun sort of way against a headboard that Moony--_

--Severus skipped several more lines--

_--swear I'll make it up to you Severus, in any way within my power and several probably quite without. _

_All my love __be it ever so gooey, Sirius_

"Oh my god," Evans said.

"Appalling, isn't it?" Severus said, glaring down at the parchment. "If only reasonable individuals sat in office in the Ministry, there would be laws against it, perhaps an entire committee upon the proper use of punctuation and decorum in--"

"_Oh my god!_" Evans squealed, and Severus blinked and looked up, worried that she'd maybe read the parts he'd skipped, as they were surely unfit for human consumption. She was staring down at her own parchment though, delivered by an owl at nearly the same time as Severus's, hands shaking and eyes wide.

Severus's heart made an odd little jump in his chest.

"I can't believe this," Evans said, breathless.

Taking a deep breath to calm his overly reactive organs, Severus peered over her shoulder at the letter she was tremulously grasping. Something shiny glittered up at him from the bottom of the parchment, the sun's rays catching its corners, and he gently lowered Evans's wrist to get a better look.

It was a badge, expensive and gold. Across it were engraved the words HEAD GIRL.

"I can't believe it," she whispered.

"Stop kidding yourself," he wanted to tell her, but was suddenly invaded by a most disturbing sensation, stomach wrenching and full of dread.

He looked down at Sirius's letter, now crushed in his fist, and swore. _Further stories involving Potter's stupid git face_, Sirius had said, and _I'll make it up to you Severus_, and it was obvious without an instant's further thought what he'd meant. "I am going to KILL that Potter!" he hissed.

"Oh, don't say that name!" Evans cried, looking thoroughly distraught. "Oh please, please, _please _don't say that! I just had a very, very bad thought about--"

Severus hadn't thought about it, having been far too concerned with revising and Legilimency and his irreconcilable teenaged hormones, but it was clear the worst had happened: the entirety of Hogwarts had been put under the control of a pair of over privileged, do-gooder Gryffindors.

"Oh god," he said. "We're all doomed."

"Please do not tell me that letter says James is Head Boy, Severus. Because if you do," she started.

"Doomed," Severus repeated, voice flat. "Someone kill me now."

"Me first," Evans insisted with an anguished sigh. "My life is such a farce."

"Well, that makes two of us," Severus conceded, feeling ill. Here and he'd begun to think Seventh Year might be tolerable. Why had he bothered?

* * *

The morning of September first was bright and cheery, and the crowd at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters were all sunny dispositioned and happy to be alive, see their friends and be off to school again. All except Severus, of course, who'd been lying in bed the past few days sweating in the heat and clutching his new DADA text to his chest like a life-jacket.

He regretted it now though because he and Evans were back to being enemies in public, of course, and seeing her and pretending he didn't know her would be a terrible ordeal, especially considering they had nearly every class together this year. And who knew if she'd have time for their potions room. He should've got his time in with her when he could.

And of course Sirius was nowhere to be found, and seeing him after hols was always nerve wracking, even when the boy hadn't been exchanging sultry punctuation with marginally feral jumper wearers all summer. He'd probably forgotten all about Severus, just like Severus should've forgotten about him but couldn't seem to manage.

Maybe if he could just find a quiet compartment and cast a few locking spells on the door, Severus could make it to Hogwarts with minimal mental trauma, instead of--

"_Severus!_"

Severus winced at Sirius's voice, wishing he'd planned things out beforehand so as not to have been caught so easily. "You should know better by now than to disturb me when I'm brooding, Black."

"But then I'd never be able to talk to you, and I know how much you'd hate that!" Sirius exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

Severus's jaw dropped at the sight of him. Not only was he noticeably taller than he was the last time Severus saw him, but his hair was longer and softer looking than Evans's and he was wearing a brand new set of unconscionably expensive robes. Severus gaped at a shiny gold object on his chest, pinned just to the left of his Slytherin tie.

"Have you been out in the sun?" Sirius asked, looking perplexed.

"That's the Head Boy pin," Severus said stupidly.

"You're olive complected and all, so you _should _tan well, but you've really gone this sort of orangeish colour," Sirius continued, wrinkling his nose. "It's a very unfortunate shade, Severus, I don't think--"

"You're wearing the Head Boy pin," Severus repeated, gobsmacked. "You're Head Boy."

Sirius blinked. "I told you that. In the letter."

Severus pointed at his chest with one hand and covered his mouth with the other. It was the only way to look as though it weren't hanging open still.

"Wow, was I that drunk when I wrote that?" Sirius asked, looking confused. He shrugged. "Anyway, what I _meant _to tell you was that you're about ten times more academic than I am, and much more deserving, and I wrote to Albus-- I can call him that now, you see, since he's picked me as his representative and says he has total confidence in my _full ability to reach my potential_--"

"I thought it was Potter," Severus said.

"I was _that _drunk?" Sirius asked.

"Oh fuck," Severus murmured. "Have you seen Evans?"

Sirius frowned. "Should I have? She's not asking for me now, is she, because my heart belongs to-- Oi, you look ill. When you're ill, you should say you're ill, and I can buy you things. They say money can't buy you happiness, but anything else you want, it's yours. My Uncle Alphard, when he heard about me making Head Boy and all-- I drunk owled my entire family, as was their due-- well, he wrote back and said he decided to throw in his lot with me, as we haven't had a Head Boy in the family for over a century and my sodding stupid brother turned up his nose at the gift Uncle got him last Christmas…"

Sirius's comfortingly irritating voice ushered him onto the Express, where the boy immediately stowed their luggage with Aubrey, located the snack cart and bought Severus an armful of pumpkin pasties. And then proceeded to buy something for everyone else in sight.

"One for you there, sweetie, here we are. Droobles? Alright, get yourself one, then. The least your new Head Boy can do is pack you full of sweets so you drive your Heads of House mad. Now if you ever need anything, anything at all," he advised the hungry masses, "you know who to come to. Help with your homework, tips for your Quidditch game, advice on your love life, I've got the answers for you!"

"Too bad they're not the right ones," Severus told him, shoving some of the pasties in his pockets so he could open one.

"Silence, you," Sirius chastised. "I am buying their love with sugary edibles. And speaking of love, if you happen upon any wayward jumpers, tell me right away, or I shall eviscerate you."

"Yes, dear," Severus said with a roll of his eyes and a lick of pasty filling. Remus was the least of his worries. Evans was going to kill him.

Though maybe not. Potter was the thicker of the two by far, not to mention that he tried to get people bloody _killed by werewolves_, and it wasn't as though Sirius was going to start propositioning her again. Severus had never once seen her wear a jumper.

"Come on then, I have places to go and people to do," Sirius urged, nudging his shoulder. Severus shook from his mind the image of Evans in an oversized green woollen jumper, the neck sliding down over her shoulder, and followed his new Head Boy down the corridor.

No kissing, he reminded himself.

Five minutes and two conversations with Fifth Years about the effects of dung bombs when set off inside antique china teapots later, and Severus and Sirius came upon the trio of Gryffindors.

"Fancy seeing you two here," Potter said, a look of intense annoyance crossing his features.

"Not so much, considering this is the train to Hogwarts, and we're both going there," Severus answered coolly. He'd had Sirius to himself all summer, and that was all he had? What a useless piece of nothing.

Potter made a noise and Pettigrew grasped his sleeve, rather like a small child trying to get its mother's attention. "I don't want that git to take points before we even get to school, James!" he hissed, throwing a worried look in Sirius's direction. "Can we _please _just go? Please, James?"

Sirius ignored them all, his eyes glued to Remus. The Gryffindor boy looked less jumpery than he might've, though his face was red clear to the tips of his ears.

"So how about those Wimbourne Wasps?" Severus offered with a roll of his eyes when the silence stretched.

"I fucking HATE YOU ALL," Potter announced.

Severus raised a brow, but Sirius was still staring at Remus, oblivious. "Moony," he murmured.

Potter threw his hands up in exasperation, tugging Pettigrew down the corridor and muttering that Sirius wouldn't rest until he'd bent the entire bloody world and they should just stay away or they'd wake up one morning bloody hunchbacks. As pleasing as it was to have the pair gone, this left Severus in the corridor alone with Sirius and Remus, who were still staring at each other quite distressingly.

Severus cleared his throat.

No one moved.

"Your rat stinks! Don't you ever bathe him?" a high pitched voice asked from further down the corridor, the sound of the rails filling the car as the door was opened.

"Does not!"

"Does too!"

"Look, are we going to stand here or find a bloody compartment?" Severus demanded. A passel of gaping First Years with smelly rats was all they needed right now.

Remus blinked and shook his head as though waking from a dream, and opened the door behind him. The compartment was empty, and Severus slid into a seat near the door, relieved he'd got safely in without running across Evans. Merlin, she was going to kill him.

Sirius, ever unconcerned for Severus's wellbeing, slid the door closed behind them. "Keep watch, would you?" he said, by all appearances about to devour Remus.

"Absolutely not!" Severus announced, appalled. "Have you entirely taken leave of your--"

"But Severus!" Sirius protested, pulling at his own hair and looking flush-cheeked and desperate. "I've spent all bloody summer staring at Potter's _stupid _face, not a _single _jumper in sight, and I swear I'm so pent up I'm about to--"

"Fine! Go ahead! Merlin's sake, you're such a bloody--"

But there was no point in finishing because Sirius had literally pounced on Remus, like some sort of a boy-cat, and pinned him back against the seat. He had his tongue so far down the Gryffindor's throat, it'd be a wonder if it didn't come back half digested. Remus, usually so reasonable, had his leg thrown around Sirius's hip and hands buried in Sirius's hair and was making odd noises, like rubbing a balloon around in your hands so it squeaked.

Settling back against his seat, Severus hoped his head popped.

Kissing was so disgusting.

Evans was going to kill him.

This year was going to be hell.


	11. SEMANTICS AND FELIX FELICIS

CHAPTER 11: SEMANTICS AND FELIX FELICIS

"I still say it's impossible to write legibly when you're that drunk," Evans insisted, levelling off a spoonful of ground dragon claw with the blunt edge of a knife.

"This is exactly my point, Evans," Severus reminded her. "If he'd been able to write, it would've been clear who was Head Boy. But he was not, and thus the confusion."

"Maybe you just haven't learned to read properly yet," Evans offered, and sprinkled the powder into her simmering potion.

Severus scowled, wedged his arse deeper into the cushions of the armchair he'd dragged over from the corner, and buried his nose in _The Dark Arts Outsmarted_. Evans hadn't killed him after all. The way she was lording his mistake over him though, he sometimes wished she had. It was hardly _his _fault Sirius was one of the most disturbed people he'd ever met-- that distinction belonged to his parents-- or that he was incapable of sensible grammatical construction. That was Remus's fault.

Of course Remus failed to acknowledge his guilt, only staring blankly at Severus when he'd brought it up. The full moon was this Wednesday and he was looking jumpery again though, so Severus forgave him. It must be a truly arduous task keeping Sirius's tongue occupied and out of Severus's bodily orifices, and the Gryffindor was doing a masterful job of it. Severus's ears had not been assaulted even once this year.

He frowned.

"What're you reading?" Evans asked. She wasn't even looking at him, because if she had been, she'd've seen straight off. In fact, she probably hadn't even bothered glancing up from her precious potion to see that he was holding a book. He pointed this out.

"You have a Reading Silence," she told him.

"A what?" he demanded.

"There are different types of Silences," she explained. "Like when McGonagall gets really indignant, she gets Silent and tight lipped just before taking points."

"Does the Head of Gryffindor House often take points from the Head Girl?" Severus asked, perturbed because she still hadn't looked up.

"And you know, right before Kettleburn's about to show us a new creature," she continued, ignoring him as she stirred, "there's this Silence of Anticipation from the entire class. Or maybe it's Terror. And like when James is about to say something particularly asinine, he goes all Silent and Contemplative. You get to recognize the different types of Silence after a while. If you bother to listen, that is."

"What I recognize is that silence is silence," Severus insisted. "And in case I haven't mentioned it before, I would like to take this opportunity to state that James Potter is perfectly capable of saying asinine things with no silence involved. He does it every time he opens his mouth."

Evans shook her head sadly, and the look on her face almost made Severus wish she hadn't looked at him after all. "You're so unpoetic."

"I'm fairly sure that's not a word, Evans," Severus told her, as she clearly lacked certain refinements, despite herself.

"I asked what you were reading," she informed him, as though he'd forgot. "Are you going to ask what I'm brewing?"

"A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love?" he offered.

An odd look crossed her face, her pretty green eyes narrowing. She threw a book at him.

"Evans!" he protested, as innocent educational material certainly didn't deserve such callous treatment. It had landed in his lap, open to an illustration of a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head. He flipped it over to examine the spine, and found the title _Moste Potente Potions_. "Brilliant," he said.

"Not _that,_" Evans laughed. "Turn the page!"

Severus did. "Felix Felicis?"

"Professor Slughorn told us all about it last year, makes you ridiculously lucky. Don't you remember?" she asked, looking back down into her cauldron momentarily, and then smiling back up at him in that way that made his stomach do strange things.

"Yes, and I also remember what he said would happen if it were brewed incorrectly," Severus told her, swallowing. "You need to let it stew for six months before you add the dragon claw, you know."

"Of course. I took it home over summer in my chest and kept it under my bed. Didn't I tell you?"

Severus frowned, as Evans had said many things, but he'd lately developed the habit of staring at her mouth and not actually hearing some of them. Very inconvenient. "Not that I recall."

"No," Evans insisted, "I know I told you. And you said, _fantastic _or somesuch, and asked when it would be finished."

"Do you have a point?" Severus asked.

Evans sighed. "Well, in any case, It'll be ready in…" she paused, "probably a month. Maybe a bit less. I had to alter things slightly, so the timing might be a bit off."

Severus stared. "Do you plan to spend the rest of your life in St Mungo's?"

"No, I plan to brew it correctly," she told him, and rather tartly at that. "I might even let you have some, if you're nice. Do you know that word, 'nice'?"

Severus snorted and flipped back to examine the witch with the arms coming out of her head. After a few moments, he realized that Evans had gone utterly still, and he looked up to find her squinting over at him in concentration.

"Do you need the book back?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Just let me look at you for a minute…"

"Are you developing a masochistic streak now?" he demanded. She said nothing but kept staring at him, emerald gaze so intense that he felt his cheeks redden, and he looked back down at the book.

"No, you have to maintain eye contact," Evans told him. "Come on, Sev, please? I read the whole book. I only want to practice, and no one else is going to understand."

"Practice what, being unnerving?" he asked, rifling through his brain for something she'd need eye contact to practice and coming up with "_Legilimency?_"

"Not the really invasive kind, I promise. There's this way you can do it nonverbally so you just get surface thoughts--"

"I should think not!" he declared, holding the potions book up in front of his face so that she had no chance of catching his eyes.

"Fine, be that way," she told him. "I'm sure you weren't thinking anything worth knowing, anyway."

Severus said nothing as he perused the list of ingredients, feigning nonchalance as well as one could whilst quite obviously hiding behind a book.

Evans cleared her throat. "So… has, ah, Black said anything about, um, me?"

"I'm sure he has better things to do with his tongue," Severus told her, annoyed and wondering why she'd even bother asking, as practically nothing that came out of Sirius Black's mouth was ever worth listening to.

"Well, he talks about _you _all the time," she accused.

"He never mentions you," Severus told her, not sure what she was implying (because he knew Gryffindors, and this one was clearly implying _something_) and pointedly uninterested in finding out. "In fact, I'm rather sure he doesn't even know your name."

Evans made a noise. "Well, it's just… I haven't the faintest idea what Professor Dumbledore sees in him. As if his ego weren't bad enough, he lacks all sense of responsibility and has the foulest mouth I've ever encountered. I was only trying to be polite and asked him how he spent his summer, and the things he said about James, he called him a-- well, it doesn't bear repeating. I'm sure I've never _been _so offended."

"Have you never met Lucius Malfoy?" Severus asked. He scowled at the illustration of the woman with the extra arms. It had seemed so promising, but it turned out the effects were temporary and only moderately painful.

Why was the whole world set against him?

"I told him we can't have the Head Boy cursing like a sailor," Evans said with a sigh, "and then he made me explain how a motor boat works. How does he even know what a motor boat is? It's hopeless. Could you please talk to him?"

Severus blinked, peeking out from behind his parchmenty refuge. "Talk to him? Certainly. Make him listen? You can lead a horse to water, Evans, but you can't--"

"I'm not really a horse person, Sev. Please?" she urged.

He very forcefully did not stare at her pouting lips. "I do not appreciate being set up for failure," he informed her.

"Oh, thank you _so_ much! It really means the world to me, honestly," she answered, sounding relieved.

Severus scowled and didn't bother to mention that he hadn't technically said he'd do it. He realised what a boon this was when he returned to his dormitory room, only to be assailed by Sirius standing atop his bed and bellowing "FUUUUCK!" at the top of his lungs.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Severus demanded. Not that he was offended, of course, but he had to admit, he was curious. Though Sirius had his moments, his swearing wasn't usually all that bad unless Potter was involved.

"Cursing at the top of my lungs, obviously," a red-faced Sirius told him quite rationally, just before shouting, "MOTHER-LOVING BITCH-FACED SLUT-TROLLOP!"

"I see," Severus told him, slouching down onto Sirius's bed.

"Are we shagging tonight, then?" Sirius asked, eyeing him with pink-cheeked interest.

"You wish," Severus told him.

Sirius shrugged. And then hollered something obscene and quite probably illegal involving farm animals.

"You should take off your shoes when you stand on your bed," Severus instructed, sliding to the edge of the mattress when he noticed the dirt all over Sirius's messy sheets. Nothing Sirius owned ever stayed clean or tidy for long, not even the fancy new clothes his crazy uncle had bought for him for making Head Boy. Didn't he realise you were supposed to take care of nice things? It was insulting to people who didn't have them. "And I think you really need to learn to control your cursing. It's not yet refined enough for public consumption. Honestly, _slut-trollop?_"

Sirius sighed and plopped down beside him. "I _know _that, what do you think I'm doing right now? I'm getting it out of my system! I figure if I let it loose in controlled bursts, it won't sort of spurt out when I'm not expecting it. You know, like a fourth-year who hasn't wanked for a long time, and he wakes up one morning and his pyjamas are all--"

"Your similes are appalling," Severus informed him, wincing.

"That's what Moony says too. He became very cross with me last week when I told him the noise he made when I kissed that spot just below his hipbone sounded like--"

"Stop," Severus ordered. "Just stop."

Sirius sighed. "But I didn't mean to imply it was a _bad _thing! Some people really enjoy-- oh, put the wand away, Severus! This is all Potter's fault, anyway. If you'd heard his father swear... He may be slow off the pitch-- he went to school with Merlin himself, after all-- but does he ever get it through the hoop in the end! The man once went on for nearly a whole minute before I caught on who he was insulting. And it was _me!_ I was just hoping it was this sort of latent talent I've got, since I'm sure we're related. I'll check the tapestry if I ever go back home again-- or, you know, the place I used to call home, but now call Bloody _Fucking_--"

"I don't think your mouth-wanking plan is working," Severus informed him with a raised eyebrow. His left, as that one seemed to have the best effect.

Sirius regarded him blankly for a moment, only to respond with "Shit!" when he realized what he'd said. "I mean, fuck," he corrected, and shook his head. "I mean, damn it! Oh, bloody hell I can't do this, Severus!"

"Actually, you're getting worse. Would you like me to hex you so every time you curse, you lose a toe?" Severus asked him, always supportive. "On second thought, just give up, like the sad loser you are. You haven't got enough toes to last the week. Maybe the Headmaster will give Potter your shiny Head Boy pin, and your little boyfriend can--"

"Ah, that's _it!_" Sirius exclaimed, jumping down from his bed and attacking the clutter on his bedside table. "Now where did I put that bloody…" Three seconds later, objects were being launched over Sirius's shoulder, and Severus had to duck to prevent himself from being struck upside the head by a shoehorn.

He looked on in a sort of appalled fascination as a roll of Spellotape and half a crumpet flew past, but when a pair of pink panties landed in his lap, he had no choice but to protest. "Now see here!" he began, fearing to even touch them.

Sirius loosed a crow of triumph and pulled something from the mess. "Potter!" he exclaimed. "James Potter!"

"Are these _his?_" Severus demanded, though it came out with a bit of a squeak because Sirius was calling for James Potter and _there were panties on his lap!_

"What d'you want, Black?" came Potter's voice, clear as day, into the room.

Severus gaped at Sirius, who held a small, flat object to his face. "Oi, get my boyfriend, you fuck-useless wanker!" Sirius said to it.

"He's in the library, tosspot!" Potter's voice yelled back. "Leave me the hell alone!"

Sirius made a noise of some sort that Severus was not at liberty to contemplate because Sirius had some sort of magic Potter mirror, and Sirius's pink panties were _still on his lap!_

"Hey, Severus, I'm going to-- oh, sorry about that," Sirius said, and snatched away the panties, stuffing them into his pocket.

Severus gaped.

"I'll be back," Sirius told him with a wicked grin. "Don't wait up."

It was a week before Severus recovered, feeling sufficiently removed from pink panties and the recollection that Potter had nicked a pair of Evans's some time before to feel at least somewhat reassured that he wouldn't be forced to address the issue. By this time, Sirius's Clean Mouth Plan was put into full-- and highly annoying-- effect.

"It's a Twelve-Step Programme, though I've had to jump around a bit," Sirius explained one sunny afternoon whilst spreading Mooncalf dung on a bed of honking daffodils. "Moony says that sort of ruins the whole point of having steps at all, but it's going to take forever if I do it in order."

"Clever of you," Severus told him, following in Sirius's tracks and doing his best to hold the watering can so as not to alarm the flowers.

"The first step is _admitting you have a problem_," Sirius explained, "which is simple enough. I wouldn't have started the Programme if I didn't have a problem, right? I mean, I bloody swear too fucking often, and that's just not on! The second, though, is _recognizing a greater power that can give you strength_. Moony says my greater power simply _cannot _be blowjobs, which leaves me at a bit of a loss…"

Severus winced, nicking one of the daffodils with the spout and setting it honking. "Shh!" he hissed, because when you got one going, more were sure to follow. This, of course, would alarm the ringing rutabaga, and if not put quickly to an end, the entire greenhouse would wind up sounding like a demented bicycle race.

"Numbers three and four though, _examining past errors _and _making amends for these errors_, are going alright," Sirius continued. "Except Moony told me apologizing to James for calling him a mouldy sack of dung when what I'd really meant to call him was a mouldy sack of _sodding useless shit _didn't count. Can't figure why…"

"Baffling," Severus agreed, bending to shush the flower.

But the damned daffodil wouldn't stop, and its neighbour was starting to look restless. As a last resort, Severus poured the upturned cup of its bloom full of water. Unable to enunciate, it merely spluttered, gurgling and spitting water onto its neighbours. Spent, it hung its sad, sodden daffodil head in defeat.

Severus was about to move to the next flower when the sight caught him. Its delicate petals hanging downward, beads of water dripping from their tips, the image hit him like a broomstick upside the head: Evans standing ankle deep in the lake, her soft yellow robes skimming the surface, the setting sun catching the ripples on the water and the highlights in her hair. The memory was so vivid, he could nearly feel her skin as she'd slid her finger along his, and he'd taken her hand.

If only he could have that night back, he'd… well, he didn't know what he'd do. Probably nothing; he was hopeless. If he had been Sirius, he'd've done something. Sirius Black did crazy things like snog Gryffindors under stolen invisibility cloaks, then brought them back to his dormitory and took their robes off in his bed. Severus Snape did not.

"I could help you," Sirius offered.

"What?" Severus demanded, taken aback.

"Um, _helping others that suffer from the same addictions or compulsions_? The sixth and final step, didn't you hear me?" He looked concerned. "Are you alright? You've gone all peaky…"

"I'm lovely," Severus told him, glaring at the offending flower for good measure before following Sirius down the row again.

"Well, I don't know if I'd go quite _that _far," Sirius told him.

"Amusing," Severus said, throwing him a dark look. "And I thought you said it was a twelve-step programme, not a six-step."

"I'm using the condensed version," Sirius admitted.

"Suits you," Severus told him. On second thought, Sirius Black was an idiot, and being more like him was really the opposite of what any sane person should desire, even if it would get him a bit of action. In fact, it was sheer idiocy.

Nothing proved this point better than when Sirius's brother was named Slytherin Seeker.

Severus himself was still recovering a week later, having nursed a DADA essay through the tougher moments as a drunk might a bottle of Firewhiskey. He was prepared for a cosy evening of griping whilst Evans brewed something fascinating yet pointless, but Evans had other plans.

"The Felix Felicis is ready," she told him the moment he walked in the door. He wasn't sure when she'd learned to make the potions room appear for herself, but as unnerving as it was, he did suppose it was more convenient than having her stand out in the hall waiting.

"Bully for you," he said, throwing himself into a chair opposite her.

"How much luck do you think a tablespoon would give?" she asked. "A couple of hours, maybe? It's seven now… have you decided to be nice so I can give you some?"

"Nice? Me?" Severus asked.

Evans rolled her eyes. "No, the bloke behind you. Don't tell me you're honestly going to miss out on imbibing questionably legal potions with-- knowing you-- probable Dark effects. That would be silly, wouldn't it?"

Even knowing she was just trying to goad him into whatever hackneyed plans she had dreamt up over this evening's pudding, Severus couldn't help but be intrigued. The potion did look properly finished, having turned the colour of molten gold in its small cauldron. Large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, only to splash back down without spilling the merest amount.

"You know this can only end badly," Severus informed her. "Like that time with the babbling beverage. Oh, and the Veritaserum, you remember how that went?"

"Ah, brilliantly?" she said.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, I'll drink it by myself. All alone. Just me. But you're missing out," she told him. Dipping into the brew, she withdrew a spoonful, blowing on it before bringing it to her mouth. Frowning, she licked her lips in a way that Severus thought was probably illegal in several Eastern European countries.

"Well?" Severus prompted when she said nothing.

Evans grinned. "I'm going to go see James."

Severus gaped. "You _what?_"

"Well, I've been meaning to talk to him, and I just get this feeling that now would be a good time," she answered with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "Yes, James Potter is definitely the man I need to see right now. Don't you think he looks very grown up this year?"

Severus grabbed Evans's elbow as she made for the door, dragging her back to the table which held the Felix Felicis. Here goes nothing, he thought, and spooned a large dollop of it into his mouth. It tasted slightly sweet, like honey, and filled his stomach with a strange but fulfilling warmth.

And suddenly, anything was possible. The world was his, like a spell to be moulded to his desires, and bending it to his will was not only possible, but positively easy. Evans was watching him with quiet interest, and when he looked at her, he felt that he could dance; not that he wanted to or ever would in a million years, but that he could, and bloody well enough to sweep her off her feet.

He was a god.

"So what shall we do?" Evans asked, and Severus knew immediately how to answer:

"We need Potter's Cloak."

"That's what I was _saying_," Evans told him. "Do you think he'd loan it to me if I asked nicely enough?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Evans, James Potter would loan you his spleen if you asked, nicely or not."

Evans laughed. "Stay here for a moment, and I'll get it from him. Don't go anywhere!"

Severus wouldn't have dreamt of it, of course, as he knew exactly what to do and where to go with that cloak. He realised also that he'd be needing a vial, and he slipped one into his pocket a mere moment before Evans walked back into the room.

"He was in the corridor, and he had it with him," she said, holding up the shimmery fabric. "Incredible good luck, hmm? I think he was arguing with Black again."

"For once, he's come in useful," Severus told her. "He's spent now though, I'm sure it'll never happen again."

She grinned.

He was momentarily confused as she threw the cloak over his head, but as soon as it settled, wispy fabric sweeping over his feet, he knew it was for the best.

Out in the hallway, Sirius and Remus were talking just beside the portrait of the fat lady. Remus was red-faced, his arms held across his chest and gaze toward his toes, with Sirius trying to catch his eye. Concealed by the Invisibility Cloak, Severus strode out in front of Evans to see if he could hear them.

"…understand what you're saying, Moony, but I didn't realise you meant…"

"It's not like I don't _want _to, I just don't want to rush into… if we regret it…"

"I _know_, but how bloody long do you expect me to wait? I'm--"

"Hello, Lily."

"Hi, Remus," she said, waving. Only after a distinct pause did she add, "Black."

"Sorry, can't talk Head Boy stuff right now," Sirius replied, frown twisting his lips. "Too busy being sexually repressed."

Remus made a spluttering noise, and Evans laughed. "Tell me about it," she said, and walked straight past them.

"See?" Severus heard him say as Evans passed and Sirius turned back to Remus. "Even _she_ gets…"

Luckily, Severus didn't hear him finish the sentence.

They were on the fourth floor when Evans turned away from the staircases, and Severus slid in close to her to hiss in her ear, "Where are we _going?_"

"Library," she whispered.

"We need to see the _Gamekeeper_!" Severus hissed back, just managing not to trip over the edge of the cloak. "Evans, stop it, turn around! The library will still be there tomorrow!"

"Fine!" she exclaimed. A Ravenclaw walking past gave her a strange look as she turned on her heel and marched back the way she came. "We'll just go and see the _Gamekeeper_, then!"

Severus sighed. Honestly, who cared about the library on a night like this?

Of course, Evans was even less pleased when the Gamekeeper wasn't in. She stood at his front door with her arms crossed, looking murderous as Severus peeked in through one of the grimy windows, Cloak thrown over his forearm.

"There was something really _good _in the library, you know! If I've missed out on it because of you, I'll…" she sighed and slouched against the ramshackle old building. "Well, I haven't decided what I'll do because I'm not that devious, but it'll be unpleasant, I guarantee you. You'll regret it."

"I'm terrified," he told her. "Calm down." All he could see was a lot of dirty looking, oversized furniture and a cage containing what appeared to be ferrets. But he was _sure _this was the right place…

"Let's just go for a walk," Evans offered, picking herself up out of her slouch and straightening her Head Girl pin.

"What, down by the lake?" Severus asked, his voice staying remarkably level as he remembered the last time they'd "walked" together.

Evans shook her head and grinned. "I was thinking somewhere a bit more… interesting. Come on!"

Severus had never been into the Forbidden Forest before. Neither had Evans, though the Gamekeeper had invited her once to see some dugbogs "aw nacho-rell," which the man apparently thought meant "in their natural habitat." She weaved in and out of the trees in front of Severus, arms in the air beside her and fingers gliding through the leaves, the light of the setting sun tinting her form golden yellow.

"Isn't it lovely?" she asked.

"It is," he agreed, though not with the precise question she'd asked.

"What's that?" she asked, and stopped in her tracks.

"What's wha--"

"Shh!" she hissed. "I hear something!"

Severus came to a halt behind her, so close that he could run his fingers though her hair. She turned and brought her finger to her lips to keep him quiet as she listened, and he tucked a strand like fine silk behind her ear.

"There! Do you hear it?" she asked, not batting his hand away.

He wasn't sure what the noise was, but he did hear something. It was low, like a grunt, and didn't come from a human mouth, though this didn't frighten him. Severus slid his fingertips to her cheeks, skimming across the soft skin, and asked, "Should we go and see what it is?"

Evans smiled.

Not far away, they found a clearing in the brush, and though night was swiftly falling, white sparkled up at him, and Severus could make out what was in it: a unicorn. It was a pair of unicorns, in fact, a mare with its newborn foal, golden and delicate on the ground. The sounds they'd heard must have been the young one's birth, and the tiny little thing was still sticky with its mother's fluids.

Severus and Evans watched as the mare licked it clean, nudging at it to stand as the foal blinked and searched in the twilight for some way to make sense of it all. Reaching out with its gangly legs, it attempted to pull itself to its feet, plopping on its arse more than once in the process. When it finally succeeded, it took a few shaky steps, and then trotted off with its mother into the night.

Evans gasped and whispered, "That was so amazing! Do you know how rare it is to see something like this?"

She was leaning against a tree, body warm beside Severus's, eyes still riveted to the scene. The hair he'd put behind her ear had fallen back around her face again, and he slid it back in place. He ran his knuckles across her jawbone, bringing his fingers to rest below her chin.

"I see it every day," he told her. "Every moment. Every second…"

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes dark and liquid in the night.

Severus kissed her.

He couldn't say why he did, only that he had the distinct notion that he should.

The notion was apparently correct in its assumptions because she kissed him back, sliding a hand behind his neck to pull him close. She was warm and soft and sweet, and everything else he'd ever thought she would be, breasts pressed against his chest and hand soft in his hair. He brought his hands to her hips and drew her to him there as well, a thigh on either side of his.

He scarcely noticed when she pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his arm, only kissed and kissed and dreamed of never stopping. When his hand pulled at the fabric of her robes, bunching it to get to the skin beneath, she wrapped her leg around his waist, brought both hands to his shoulders, and urged him to the ground.

Spread out beneath him on the Cloak, she was the most perfect thing ever, tonight was the most perfect night ever, and Severus could do no wrong. He ran his lips down her neck, beneath her ear, and into the hollow at the base of her neck in which her necklace rested, warm from her skin, the taste of metal in his mouth.

"Sev," she whispered, head tilted back and eyes closed, and he felt her hands against the skin of his thigh.

The rest was the most delicious of blurs, skin against skin, hands on his back, and the sound of her voice in his ears.

Afterwards, lying warm in her arms, something shining silver-blue on the forest floor caught his eye. He remembered the vial in his pocket and scooped some of the liquid into it without Evans noticing. Unicorn blood sold for a hefty price.

*****

The common room was deserted, the fire burnt down to embers. Down in his room, all was quiet save Sirius moaning in his sleep about something involving quaffles. Severus slid between the sheets, Evans's scent still clinging to his robes, feeling like the luckiest man on Earth.

The next morning, he did not feel so lucky.

In fact, he felt distinctly ill.

How in Merlin's name could he have done such a thing? How could she have _let _him? Such a disgusting, reprehensible, unthinkable, _incredible_ thing? She'd brewed the potion wrong, he'd got all the luck, that was the only explanation. The only way she would ever have allowed him to touch her, much less-- he was clearly the last person on the planet she'd have wanted to--

Oh holy mother of _fuck _what was he supposed to do now?

His brain flicked through countless scenarios, each one worse than the last-- she would never speak to him again, she would hate him, she would get him expelled, she was--

Oh _fuck!_

How could he have been so bloody _fucking_ stupid! he demanded, shoving his feet into his shoes and all but throwing himself out of the Slytherin dungeon.

He didn't go to his classes that morning, instead locking himself inside their potions room, mixing and chopping with the utmost urgency. The elixir was just cool enough to bottle by the end of Arithmancy, and he stuck a dose of it in his pocket and rushed out the door.

Evans was walking beside a unremarkable girl with wavy brown hair, laughing about something until she spotted him. Her eyes caught his for a moment, and she ducked her head. She must've said something to the other girl-- Severus thought her name was MacDonald-- because she glanced at him, nodded somewhat apprehensively, and walked the other way.

"Hey," Evans said, face burning red.

Severus cleared his throat.

"Um, about… last night…" she started.

"Don't go and try pinning the blame on me," Severus commanded, cutting her accusation off at the pass. "It was all your idea!"

Evans stared.

"You brewed it wrong," Severus hissed. "I _told _you not to take shortcuts! This is what happens when you think you're too good for directions: disaster! Don't you understand? For one of us to be lucky, and the other not--"

"Oh… so that's what happened," Evans said.

"Isn't it obvious?" Severus demanded.

"I should've known," she returned, worrying at her bottom lip. "Sorry."

Severus's mouth, poised for a nasty comeback, hung open in shock. She wasn't supposed to apologise for being taken advantage of! Sure, he was accusing her of being in the wrong, but that was only because he felt too ill at the mere thought of what he'd done to even…

Evans sighed. "It was wrong of me, okay. So I'm sorry. Alright? But I can't undo it, so don't give me that look. It was an _accident_."

Severus shook his head to clear his thoughts. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the vial, cupping it against his palm in case someone might chance to pass by. "I brewed this for you. Take it _immediately_."

Evans gaped.

Severus rolled his eyes and pressed it into her hand. "_Now_, Evans!" he insisted when she raised the potion up to stare at its putrid colour. "Neither of us needs any reminder of your little mistake!"

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Evans asked.

Severus blinked.

"Do you think," Evans demanded, eyes flashing and face twisting into a look of abject fury, "I'm _stupid?_"

"Evans--"

But before he could stop her, she'd hurled the vial at the floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces, the glop inside it spattering across the stone. "I hate you, Severus Snape! I wish I'd never _met _you!" she shouted.

Severus was too busy feeling horrified at what she'd just done to watch her run down the hallway, or think what it meant that she was crying. He had to get the potion cleaned up off the floor before anyone who might recognize it saw. Contraceptives were one thing-- those would get you a stern look and a possible detention-- but abortifacients…

Severus didn't feel up to facing society at large, so he spent the rest of the day in the potions room, picking at some food he found stuffed in his bag that had gone greyish around the edges. He felt as though his life had gone the same way.

Today was a nightmare, but last night felt like a dream, something belonging to someone else. When he closed his eyes, he could feel her mouth on his, her skin beneath his fingers, her legs sliding up his thighs. He could smell her, taste her, and recall how warm it was inside her, and know he'd never feel anything like that ever again.

He'd always known life was hideously unfair; did it really warrant such a vivid reminder?

He returned late to his room, having stared blankly at nothing for longer than he cared to admit, feeling weary to the bone, his stomach mostly settled after having vomited back up the greyish meat. He opened the curtains to his bed, but it felt foreign to him, cold and alone, and he knew it held no comfort.

Behind his own curtains, Sirius was doing something illicit with both hands under his nightshirt. He looked up at Severus with some alarm. "Ah, busy here?" he offered.

Severus scowled at the length of unclothed thigh against the Slytherin green of his sheets.

"Are we shagging tonight, then?" Sirius asked, hands still under his robes and laugh held tenuously beneath the surface of his voice.

Severus crawled onto his bed and pulled the curtains shut behind him.

It was nothing like lying with Evans. Sirius was all hard planes and angles, hands too strong and tone too deep. He gave when he should've taken, moved when he should've stilled, and whispered things against Severus's neck he had no desire to hear.

And he _bit_.

But his body was warm and pliant, his skin soft against Severus's, and they fell asleep tangled up in each other, Sirius's breath against Severus's cheek.

When Severus awoke the next morning, it was to the realisation that in his desperation he had done something not only rash, but utterly unpardonable. He turned his guilt upon the only viable alternative.

"You just cheated on your boyfriend," he said.

Sirius, who had been regarding him with a peaceful look that made Severus want to vomit up his stomach lining, frowned. "Sev--"

"You cheated on him, on your Moony, with me, you're a cheater," Severus babbled. "How could you do such a thing, betraying him like that, like you don't care at all, what sort of person are you, anyway?"

Sirius made a noise. "I didn't--"

Severus hit him.

"Ouch! Bloody Fu--udgesickles! What are you doing? Have you lost your…"

He carried on, but Severus ignored him, shame flaring in his cheeks as he pulled on his robes. His pants were hidden somewhere in Sirius's mess of sheets, and he swore loudly and verbosely as he searched, panic seeping in.

"…don't really think it's that big of a deal, Severus," Sirius was saying when Severus realized he was still talking. "It's not like it was _real _sex anyway, since you didn't actually… you know. And it's not like either of us are going to tell him, right? Okay? Yes? Severus? Hello?"

"Stop trying to justify your treachery with semantics," Severus demanded, finally spotting his pants sticking out from under Sirius's pillow. He rolled them up and stuffed them into his pocket. "You're a wretched excuse for a human being, Sirius Black!"

Severus made to escape, but Sirius grabbed his wrist. "It's fine, Severus, calm down. Nobody has to know. It'll be our secret. Okay?"

Severus shook his head, heart hammering in his chest. "But you love him. You _love _him!"

Sirius let his wrist slip from his fingers, and Severus tore from the room, nearly knocking Stebbins to the ground as he pelted through the door. "Oi!" the boy exclaimed, but Severus paid him no heed.

It was all ruined now, everything was ruined, and he was going to stick his head down a toilet and drown himself. It was the only option, he saw this now, and he'd've saved everyone a lot of trouble, himself included, if he'd done it years ago.

Given his luck though, he'd end up spending eternity with Moaning Myrtle, so he nixed that idea and went for breakfast instead. Evans wasn't there, thank Merlin, though there were a number of other individuals who would have done well to not be there either.

"Merlin's sake, have you showered lately, Snape? And by _lately_, I don't mean _this year_," one of them told him.

"You smell like something crawled up your robes and died," another announced.

"Go fuck yourselves," he advised, and somehow managed to keep his egg yolks and dry toast down until he got to the showers. It was odd watching it swirl in the water around his feet, yellow and white and green tinged, looking as though his stomach hadn't even begun digesting it.

In hindsight, he should've realised he couldn't avoid Evans forever.

He did wish he could've held off on it just a bit longer, though, as being locked in the potions room with her was not necessarily the best case scenario.

"I told you I was sorry," she said to him. "What more do you want from me?" She was sitting on the floor against a cabinet filled with empty bottles and puffer-fish parts with a book propped across her knees, looking tired and cross and even more beautiful than he'd remembered.

He wasn't sure what he wanted, so he turned his back on her and poked about at the books on the bookshelf as though they had the ability hold his interest for more than three seconds, which of course they didn't. It seemed nothing did anymore.

"You can't ignore me forever," she declared.

"Yes I could," he retorted.

She sighed, and he heard the thud of her book on the ground and the slide of her heels as she pulled herself to her feet. He fussed with the spine of _Les splendeurs des potions perdues_.

Evans sighed. "Look, it was a _mistake_. People make them. It's called _being human_. And I realise you like to think you're above the rest of humanity and our paltry, lacklustre existence, and I can see how recognizing your mortality or falling off your high horse or…" she made a noise in the back of her throat, "_whatever_ could be upsetting, but you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it, Severus Snape, because I know you did!"

"What are you talking about? Have you hit your head on something?" he asked, and turned to stare at her, as she was making less sense than even a Gryffindor was entitled to. "Of _course_ I enjoyed it! What man in his right mind doesn't enjoy sex?"

"Then why in God's name are you being such a _child_?" she demanded. Colour sprang to her cheeks the way it always did when she was angry.

"I was being _considerate_!" he insisted, and felt as though it was only partially a lie. "I hardly thought you'd want to see me after your silly potion went wrong and compelled me to take advantage of you!"

"You took advantage of me?" she said, brow creased but face unreadable. "You _must_ be joking!"

"Yes, I'm in utter hysterics on the inside, Evans," he snorted. "Absolutely bubbling over with _glee_. Are you looking for an apology? Is that what this is about? Because if you're expecting me to get down on my knees and beg forgiveness, you're going to be waiting a very--"

"You didn't take _advantage_ of me!" Evans spat. "I took advantage of _you_!"

Severus gaped at her.

"You weren't the one to get all the luck-- _I_ was!" she declared.

"You most certainly were not!" he countered, offended at the very concept.

"Are you completely _obtuse_?" she yelled. "Of course I was! I've wanted to have sex with you for months!"

"You _wanted_ to have sex with me? What in Merlin's name is _wrong_ with you, Evans?" he shouted back, infuriated beyond measure. "I was obviously the one who wanted _you_! No one wants to have sex with me but Sirius Black, and that's only because he's obviously a complete and utter--"

His words were cut off when Evans grabbed him quite forcibly by the front of his robes and kissed him.

It was hot and sweet, and there wasn't time to think of who wanted what, and why they wanted it, and whether or not it would throw the world off its axis if they went through with it. It just happened, and Severus let it happen, _wanted_ it to happen, and that was the way it was meant to be. They ended up in a pile on the floor, he with his robes rucked up to his waist and she with her thighs around his and her panties dangling from her right ankle.

They were lacy, with pink flowers stitched at the waist.

"Sev?" she said, and cupped his cheek in her hand. Her eyes beneath his were as wide as they were deep.

"This doesn't mean I'm your boyfriend," he told her, trying to keep the panic from his voice but failing. Because he was still warm and safe inside of her, some part of his soul washed clean with the relief of it, but if she thought this meant he was going to walk her to class and carry her books for her, sit next to her during meals and write sappy love poetry--

"Thank _God_," Lily said with a smile. "You'd be the worst boyfriend _ever_."


End file.
